


Soulless

by GoofyGoldenGirl



Series: Heartless| Soulless [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: ALL ABOARD THE ANGST TRAIN, ALL DEPART THE ANGST TRAIN, Affairs, Akuma, Akuma Possession, Anger, Anxiety, Apologies, Arguing, Arrest, Articles, Backstory, Bakery, Birthday, Birthday Cake, Birthday card, Bittersweet Ending, Bullying, Calendar, Cleaning, Cliffhangers, Coming of Age, Confessions, Confrontations, Conversations, Court, Courtroom, Crushes, Dark, Denial, Difficult Decisions, Dinner, Doubt, Dreams, Drowning, Drug Addiction, Embrace, Emotions, Energy Powers, Explanations, Family Dynamics, Family Secrets, Fashion & Couture, Fashion Week, Father-Son Relationship, Fear, Fights, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Healing, Identity Reveal, Illusions, Insight, Investigations, Lists, Love Confessions, Manipulation, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Adrienette - Freeform, Missing Persons, Modeling, Moonlight, Nervousness, News Media, Nightmares, POV Multiple, Panic, Panic Attacks, Parent-Child Relationship, Phone Calls & Telephones, Photoshoots, Plans, Presents, Press and Tabloids, Prison, Prison Visit, Questions, Redemption, Reflection, Revelations, Search, Secrets, Sequel, Social Media, Superheroes, The Power Of Love, Ties & Cravats, Timeskip, Trials, Truth, Worry, adrien needs a hug, baby steps, battles, coward - Freeform, encounters, fashion industry, guilty plea, ladybug beats the crap out of hawkmoth, meetings, night patrols, nightstand, operation take down hawkmoth has begun, park, plagg is a good kwami, reactions, shoeboxes, testimony, toxic masculinity, verdict, visits, your actions have consequences: the fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 09:55:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 37
Words: 70,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5924091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoofyGoldenGirl/pseuds/GoofyGoldenGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It's been five years since Adrien's mother disappeared. He is a teenager struggling to balance his duties as Chat Noir and life as a famous celebrity. When trouble arises due to an incident at work, Adrien is left with many questions and few answers.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Time is supposed to heal all wounds. But what happens when they are reopened? </em>
  <br/>
  <em>A sequel to<a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5594005/chapters/12890107"> Heartless.</a></em>
  <br/>
  <em>Made a playlist for this fic <a href="http://8tracks.com/goofyplaylists/soulless">here</a>  </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Photoshoot

#### January 2016 

“Alright this is the last one, keep your arm still.”

From the corner of his eye, Adrien saw Plagg peek out from his jacket pocket across the room. He placed his tiny paws over his eyes.

“I can’t look!” He exclaimed.

The warm gooey substance was spooned onto his skin. Jeanne spread it about with the spatula and reached for the strip.

Her fingers pressed down.

“And one… two… three!”

Plagg shrieked. His eyes rolled back and he fainted into the pocket.

After a couple prods with a pair of tweezers and a squirt of lotion onto his sore skin, Jeanne stepped back.

“Let me tell you, I’ve worked with guys and honest to god they don’t make it without screaming their heads off. And these are like twenty-thirty somethings I’m talking about; grown men bawling like _babies._ You took it like a champ Adrien! Just like your mom, god you’re so much like her I forget--- oh never mind…how old are you now? Fourteen?”

“Fifteen,” Adrien sat up. His hand rested on his bare, oil slicked leg.

“ _Fifteen._ You know your mom was fifteen when I first met her.”

“Really?”

“Yep kid! So you got me: twenty- one, and straight outta beauty school and the spa gets a call from a modeling agency. Needed waxing appointments for their girls and several were first timers. Back in those days you had girls as young as thirteen doing gigs and most of them were scared _shitless_ \---”

“Oops! I didn’t mean that to slip!” Jeanne placed a hand over her mouth.

“It’s fine,” Adrien shrugged.

“So where was I? Oh yeah, so at that spa there was me and another girl who worked waxing. She got sick so I had to take over. So I go out into the waiting area and I see this girl: fifteen, tall, thin, absolutely gorgeous, I mean just _gorgeous_ So I call her in. And she gets on the cot, right where you are now, looks up at me with those baby green eyes, and asks---“

“ _Does it really hurt that bad just like they say?_ ”

You know, other people go into their _it takes pains to be beautiful_ type spiel. Me? I don’t do that stuff. You know what I say?”

“ _It’s gonna hurt no matter what you do. It’s how you **handle** it that counts sweetheart!_ ”

“And she smiled. I knew right there that we were gonna be friends. The next time she came in they asked her if she wanted the waxing to be done by me or the other girl and she’s all—“

“ _Can Jeanne do it? She’s super cool._ ”

Jeanne sighed.

“God I miss your mom,” she said.

“Everyone does,” Adrien said lightly. “Thanks Jeanne for squeezing me in on such short notice!”

“Don’t sweat it kid! You’re not the first to do a day before shoot wax.”

She closed the door.  
**********************  
Adrien sat in the spa waiting area for Gorilla to pick him up. After checking to see if the coast was clear, Plagg slid out of Adrien’s jacket and climbed up the zipper to his shoulder. 

“Why do you humans torture yourselves by _ripping_ off your hair?” Plagg asked. 

“It’s a beauty thing,” Adrien said. “People don’t like body hair.”

“But don’t you get _cold?_ Doesn’t it leave you _vulnerable_ to infections and germs and things that don’t happen to me because I have a layer of hair to keep me nice and cozy?”

“Human body hair’s different from animal hair. It doesn’t really do much to keep you warm,” Adrien explained.

“But it still doesn’t make _sense!_ ” Plagg threw up his paws, confused.

“Can’t have pit and leg hair for a swimsuit shoot; it’d look gross,” Adrien replied. “At least I got lucky. They’re harder on girls. They have to get rid of _everything._ ”

“Even the hair at the top of their head?” Plagg was horrified.

“Well…not like that,”Adrien said with a chuckle.  
*************************************************  
It was three thirty when Adrien arrived on set. The Agreste line had rented the pool of a private club outside of Paris. He headed over to the locker room to get changed. The crew made the finishing touches to the set:carrying out the lifeguard and beach chairs, and hanging up the green screen that would provide the beach backdrop during the editing process.

January was too early in Adrien’s opinion to start the summer swimwear campaign but his father wanted to get it over with before Fashion Week.

When he came out, he saw his father chatting with one of the photographers. Several people checked to see if the lights were working. A girl in a white bikini was having her makeup applied by one of the stylists.

She stood about awkwardly after the stylist left. Adrien approached her.

“Hi! You new here?” He asked.

“Yeah. I’m Emeline,” she introduced herself. 

“Adrien,” he held out his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” they shook.

“Where’ve you worked before?”

“Ralph Lauren and Zara teen collections with a few advertisements here and there,” she said.

“Cool. I’ve done a couple things for Zara but not Ralph Lauren. Dad doesn’t like him.”

“Oh,” she smiled.

A crackling sound came as the megaphone was turned on.

“There’s no time for idling about! We have a shoot to do! Everyone get into place!” Gabriel shouted. 

Adrien walked up to his father and greeted him with a nod. His father motioned for him to stand by his side. It was the first time they had interacted with each other that day.

Everyone who met them said that son was the splitting image of his father. Adrien could see how they got to that conclusion: blond hair, light eyes, a similar body structure,but they were wrong. His father was angular and bony; a sharp jaw, a beaklike nose, thin fingers, a bulge of a muscle here and there, and square shoulders. Adrien’s round boyish features stubbornly refused to adapt to the changes of adolescence: dimpled cheeks, a heart shaped face, pudgy limbs, and smooth shoulders. 

Gabriel held up a hand to demand their attention.

“Summer is the essence of youth,” Gabriel began. “It is a time of adventure, excitement, freedom, and discovery. People look back fondly on the summers of their youth; from sun kissed beaches, road trips with no destination, sneaking out to late night parties, the joys of first love. We want to tap into that nostalgia with this campaign. We want our audience to vicariously relive their summers through our models. Can you do that?”

“Yes sir,” Adrien and Emeline said at the same time.

“Convince me,” Gabriel answered. “Alright everyone let’s start with our lovers!”

Adrien was seated in the lifeguard chair. Emeline was placed on a float in the pool.

“You are a lifeguard! And she is the pretty girl who catches your eye!”

Adrien pretended that Emeline was Ladybug. The long brown hair that sat at her shoulders transformed into black hair streaked with blue that dangled from two teardrop shaped pigtails. Her hazel eyes, a crisp ocean blue. Her tan contoured cheeks, round and pink.

_Click_

Grinning as he tossed a beach ball to her.

_Click_

Laughing as they splashed each other in the pool.

_Click_

Sitting at the edge of the pool with an arm around her.

_Click_

A flirty glance as she handed him a towel.

_Click_

Posing side by side in matching sunglasses.

_Click_

Delicately placing his hands on her hips as they stared at each other.

_Click_

Closing his eyes as their lips met, imagining that he and Ladybug lost themselves in a passionate kiss after a dangerous mission.

“Cut!”

A snap back to reality. He embarrassedly pulled back from Emeline.

“Uh. Sorry if I—“

“Dude, compared to other guys I had to kiss you’re _tame,_ ” She said with a laugh. “It’s actually nice!”

“Uh thanks?”

“Individual shots! Ladies first!” Came his father’s voice.

Adrien wrapped himself up in a towel and sat on the sidelines. A stylist retouched Emeline’s makeup. His father and one of the photographers muttered to each other before he clapped his hands for the shoot to commence.

“Ok, the first shot will be you in the water—“

Emeline started to the pool steps.

Gabriel’s mouth opened.

_What?_

All the color from her face drained. Her body sunk inward as her arms hovered protectively over her torso.

“Excuse me?” She asked softly.

“You heard me---“

The towel fell from Adrien’s shoulders. A hand was on the floor as he raised his body up.

“I—I—don’t want to” Emeline stuttered.

“Come on love we don’t got all day!” The photographer chimed in, followed by something incredibly rude.

“But I’m _fifteen_!” Emeline protested. “I-I can’t do stuff like _that!_ ”

“You’re not going to get anywhere in this business if you act like the world revolves around you,” Gabriel exclaimed in a frustrated tone. “You want to get _paid?_ You do as you’re _told._ ”

Her hands went to her back. She held back tears as her fingers clutched at the fabric---

“Dad that’s _illegal!_ ”

Everyone stopped what they were doing. Gabriel turned towards his son.

“Adrien? Are you the one running this shoot?” He coolly asked. 

“Emeline’s uncomfortable!” Adrien angrily exclaimed. “And you should know better than to tell her to do _that!_ ”

“You are wasting valuable—“

“I don’t _care!_ ” Adrien shot back. “You say you want to inspire people? What kind of a message will you be sending if you can’t even _respect_ those who work for you!” 

“It’s _artistic expression._ ”

“It’s _not!_ You’re just _using_ her for your own _twisted_ view of what _you_ think a woman should look like!”

“Stop this right _now_!” Gabriel yelled. 

“I’m not going to just _stand_ here and watch as you take _advantage_ of her! Because it isn’t **right!** ” 

He went over to Emeline and offered his towel to her. She took it. 

“I don’t want to do this,” she whispered. 

“Come with me,” he said. 

They crossed the set to the pool entrance. He was uncertain whether to give her some space or to place a comforting arm around her. Emeline reached out to hold onto him. He let his arm hover over her shoulders. 

“ _Adrien!_ ” 

“Who’s your manager?” He asked in a low voice. 

She let out a sob. 

"It's ok...it's ok..." 

“Adrien, you listen to me boy; get back here with that girl right _now!_ ” Gabriel barked. 

“Ignore him. Ignore him,” Adrien hastily said. 

“You are being _rude_ and _disrespectful_ to everyone on this shoot! I did not _raise_ you to be such a spoiled _brat!_ Your mother would be _ashamed_ to see how you’re acting!” 

Adrien flinched as he heard his father’s words, but his hand reached out and pushed the door open. 

“Get back here! Get back here right **now!** ” Gabriel screamed. 

They left the room. 

“ **Get back here!** ” 


	2. The Article

The maid came by and set his breakfast before him. Adrien reached for his coffee and filled the mug half way with milk. He stirred in a spoonful of sugar and tasted it. 

_Needs more sugar._

He reached for the bowl again to find that the maid already took it. If he tried to ask for her to bring the sugar bowl back, his father would hear about it and give him _another_ lecture about how it would go to his thighs.

He broke off a bit of his toast and spread some marmalade on it. With a quick glance, he snuck it under the table to Plagg.

He had just finished his first slice when he heard the familiar click-clack of heels hitting the floor.

“Morning Nathalie,” he said.

“Hello Adrien,” she looked up at him from the tablet. Her fingers punched in the last few letters or numbers on the keyboard. 

Nathalie’s years at Agreste headquarters left its mark on her wardrobe. She could have used the opportunity to dress down, but preferred classy business wear (today’s was a pair of black slacks and a red turtleneck). Her jet-black hair (she started dyeing it the year before) was pulled back into a tight bun.

“I like your shirt,” he told her.

“Oh. Thank you,” she brushed his remark aside as she pulled up the day’s schedule.

Her tone stumped him. Was she surprised that he complimented her? Annoyed that he was treating her like an equal and not someone who was in charge of him? Did he remind her of something unpleasant? Or was it simply that she did not like him?

Adrien only just started to see Nathalie as Nathalie instead of _Miss Sancoeur his father’s secretary._ He wondered how many years it would take before she started seeing him as Adrien instead of _Mr. Agreste’s son._

“Your piano teacher called to reschedule. Is Thursday afternoon at 4:30 good?”

“Yeah,” he bit into his toast.

“Are you sure? Your fencing lesson’s at 6:00.”

“I’ll be fine. Anything new today?”

“Alright then,” she added the date to the calendar. “Nope; nothing new. You have a free afternoon today.”

“Good.”

That would be enough time to squeeze in a Chat Noir patrol and homework.

“Thanks.”

“One more thing Adrien. Avoid the tabloids today.”

Adrien wanted little to do with the press and even less with their lies. He learned his lesson after the vultures hounded him and his father constantly after his mother disappeared. Two years ago his father came across an article that claimed that Marie had abandoned the family due to a crippling cocaine addiction. His father, furious, threatened to sue them. Adrien spent a month reliving his mother’s disappearance. After the magazine had been pulled from circulation along with a poorly written apology, Adrien refused to make a joint statement with his father to the press. He feared they too would twist and tear him apart.

“What did they say?”

Nathalie paused for a second.

“Their usual filth.”  
********************  
He checked France’s most popular celebrity gossip site on his phone while he put his jacket in his locker. He scrolled through the headlines: Jagged Stone announced tour dates, something about the Kardashians, speculation about The Oscars…

**Teen Model Throws Tantrum On Set**

_Yikes! Even male models can be divas!_  
_Paris’ dream boy Adrien Agreste reportedly got into a shouting match with his father during a photoshoot yesterday._  
_After being snubbed for a photo, the fifteen year old threw a fit, even going as far as to drag one of the other models out with him._  
_“You’re such a spoiled brat!” His father shouted at him. “Your mom would be ashamed of you!”_  
_Sources tell us that the photoshoot was canceled after he left._  
_Was it an outburst or is Adrien letting fame go to his head? Tell us in the comments!_

“Oh no,” Adrien sighed. 

“Whatcha gonna do about it?” Plagg piped up from the locker shelf. 

“Release a statement I guess,” Adrien opened up his email. “I’ll send something over to Nathalie.” 

“Aw come on! Just go all Chat Noir on the writers of that trash,” Plagg pounded his paws together. 

“I can’t do that, that’s not fair,” Adrien chuckled. 

“You really need to stand up for yourself kid and prove that you’re not to be messed with.” 

“But I am—“ 

“No you’re not! You’re just letting them have another opportunity to take a shot at you in the future!” 

“Crap! I have to get to class!” Adrien realized as he saw that it was nearly 8:30. 

“Adrien, skip class! We’ll—“ 

He slammed the locker door shut and sprinted down the hall. He began typing out the email: 

_Nathalie,_  
_I saw the article. I want to release a statement. I walked out yesterday because I saw one of my peers--_

He burst into the classroom: 

“Sorry I’m late!” He exclaimed. 

The teacher had begun the lesson. Everyone gave him an annoyed look. 

“Adrien take a seat,” his teacher said coolly. 

He did so. He pressed _save_ on the email as he wrote: 

_She was pressured--_

“Put your phone away.” 

“Sorry!” Adrien put it in his pocket and took out his notebook and pen. 

“What? You’re not gonna give us a show Adrien? What are you wiped out from yesterday?” Chloe obnoxiously said. 

“I do not want any more disruptions in my class. All eyes on the board and mouths shut!" The teacher crossly exclaimed. 

Adrien kept his arms close to his sides and his head down as he started to take notes.  
***************************************************************************************  
He skipped down the steps. Gorilla had just pulled up in front of the school. Adrien’s mouth watered. He couldn’t wait to have lunch; the toast didn’t tide over and the coffee made him feel jittery, and he knew he had to eat something soon… 

A white flash nearly blinded him. 

The cameras clicked. Strange people shouted. Adrien broke out into a cold sweat. He carried himself as fast as he could as but they pursued him: 

“Adrien! Adrien!" 

“What do you have to say about your father calling you a spoiled brat?" 

“Come on boy! Say something!” 

Their voices melded into one high pitched shriek. Adrien felt his legs tremble as he tugged at the car door. 

“Leave him **alone!** ” Gorilla shouted at the paparazzi. 

He pushed Adrien into the car and they sped off. 

Adrien gasped for air as he clutched the back of the passenger seat. His eyes watered up and he wished that he could let himself cry without being seen. 

“God. Just who do they think they are,” Gorilla muttered. “They shouldn’t be going after kids like that.” 

A wave of dizziness washed over him as his stomach growled. He thought he was going to be sick but a sob came out instead.  
********************************************************************************************************************************  
Nathalie said his father wanted to speak to him. 

He didn’t want to leave the house. It took a bit of coaxing from Plagg to convince him to go over to Agreste Headquarters. 

“I’ll be with you don’t worry!" 

“But what good’s that gonna do? Chat Noir wouldn’t have broken down out there,” Adrien whimpered. “He wouldn’t be so weak—“ 

“Hey! Hey! Stuff like that happens to _everyone!_ It’s out of your control and your gut takes over. It has _nothing_ to do with how weak or how strong you are. If anything it shows you’re a perfectly functional human being. You act with your heart kid. Heart’s just as important as brawns when it comes to taking care of others. Why do you think I chose you?” 

Adrien took a tissue and dabbed his eyes. 

“Because I give you free cheese?” 

“Yeah but, because I know you can do _good._ Now snap outta it!” 

Gabriel glared down at him from his office chair. Adrien steadied himself with a breath as he began: 

“Dad. I’m sorry about the way I acted yesterday. I understand I ruined a lot of your work. I will make up for my part, I promise. But I want to let you know that when I go in for the shoot, I want to make sure that everyone else gets the same treatment as I do.” 

“Not everyone in the business is a star Adrien,” Gabriel condescendingly said. 

“I mean with _respect._ All I’m asking for you is to treat others decently dad. It’s not much.” 

“Adrien—“ 

“Dad, you’re all I have. I don’t want to lose you to some scandal or whatever because of some stupid mistake,” Adrien’s voice choked up. 

Gabriel’s expression softened a little. He adjusted his glasses as he answered his son. 

“Alright then. I forgive you.” 

After that the paparazzi and tabloids left Adrien alone.  
********************************************************  
A few weeks later, Adrien walked into class to find everyone hovering over Marinette’s shoulder. She flipped through the pages of the latest issue of _Paris Fashion_

“Hey guys!” 

They shot him a nasty look. 

Adrien stopped in his tracks. Several of the girls had heartbroken expressions. Some of the guys looked jealous. The only one acting like everything was normal was Nino. 

“Dude! You didn’t tell me you got a girlfriend!” He exclaimed. 

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Adrien said. “What—“ 

Nino took the magazine from Marinette’s hands and gave it to Adrien. The swimsuit ads had already been printed and smack in the middle of the page was a close up of the kiss. 

“Guys I only kissed her for a photoshoot,” he told them. “I don’t even like her that way.” 

“You—you didn’t even tell me you _kissed_ someone for a photoshoot! Nino was surprised. “You like tell me _everything!_ ”  


“Well she’s _pretty_ ” Someone said sarcastically. 

“Was she why you walked out? Did you guys like _make out_ or something?” 

“Guys!” Adrien raised his voice. “I’m _not_ dating her! Just because I kiss a girl for a photoshoot doesn’t mean I’m _with_ her! And you wanna know why I walked out! People weren’t _treating_ her right and asking her to do things—“ 

The teacher walked in. 

“What’s all this commotion?" 

Everyone rushed back to their seats.  
**************************************  
It only took two days for the entire school to turn against him. The only one who stuck by his side was Nino. Most of the kids in his class, like Marinette and Alya interacted with him, but kept their distance during free time. Others actively shunned him. The absolute worst consisted of a group of insecure boys who hurled insults at him for being famous and having kissed a girl, and Chloe, who did not conceal her intentions to become future Mrs. Agreste. 

She confronted him during the break. He was leaning back against the gym wall; sadly looking on as everyone else hung out with their friends. 

“You don’t know what you gave up on Adrien!” She huffed. “You could have had like the _perfect_ girlfriend but you had to go and make out with a--“ 

His eyes widened as his body jolted upright. Her lips kept on moving. 

“Like don’t you know already that all those model girls are like total—“ 

“Chloe cut it out!” He shouted. 

“What are you like _defending_ her or something?” Chloe taunted him. “Did she like—“ 

“I told you like five million times! I only kissed her for a _photoshoot!_ Why can't you leave me _alone?_ ” 

The kids in the gym swarmed around them. A chorus of _Fight! Fight!_ and _Oohs and Aahs_ came from the mob. Phones were out and recording every verbal blow. 

“Didn’t your mom ever like teach you to like avoid girls like that? I mean like of _course_ not; she’s probably like _dead_ or _something!_ ” 

His blood boiled. The flame was lit and it scorched its way up from his chest: up his throat, and out of his mouth. 

“Well at least my mom didn’t **dump** her entire family for a **Brazilian model!** ” Adrien screamed. 

The whole gym fell silent. 

Chloe gasped. The mascara that clung to her long eyelashes was wiped clean with a flood of tears. She turned and ran out, hiding her face in the crook of her sleeve. 

He knew he had gone too far.  
********************************  
It was ten minutes past seven and his alarm was still ringing. He buried his face into his pillow and tried to block out the sound. Hands were on his shoulders and he heard Nathalie’s muffled voice: 

“You have to get ready for school!” 

“I don’t wanna go,” he mumbled. “I don’t wanna go back." 

“You—“ 

“I can’t go back! I _can’t!_ " 

His eyes were swollen and dried out. Snot dripped from his nose. The noises that came out from his mouth cracked once it hit the air. 

“Ok. You can stay home. I'll call the tutor." 

Click-clack. Click-clack. Creak. 

Adrien felt Plagg land close to his hand. His paw tapped a knuckle. 

“Give it time,” Plagg said in a surprisingly gentle voice. “They’re just kids and they get riled up over nothing and then they’re gonna forget. People like you Adrien, remember that.” 

Adrien turned over on his side. He gazed over at the window and the sunlight hit his eyes. He shut them tight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Need a little cheering up? The new ep's out! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=88uqLNohQQc_


	3. The Tie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly recommend listening to this song while reading  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=slKVBrgsGQU

She was stuck in traffic _again._

Nathalie groaned as she saw the detour sign at the end of the street. She prayed it was a car crash.

Ladybug and Chat Noir jumped over the sign. The woman waiting for them cackled as she flicked out her forked tongue. A hiss, and her snakes slithered, ready to strike.

Great it was _another_ akuma. 

If someone told her last year that Paris would be attacked every other day by these things and the only ones to stop them were two teenagers, she’d burst out laughing at how preposterous it sounded.

And now everyone on the road and sidewalk passed by the scene without gawking or glancing back.

The kids were doing a good job with defending the city and taking care of the damages, but Nathalie wondered if it was wise to let them have all that responsibility. At the end of the day without the powers and the costumes, they were still kids trying to navigate and find a place in the world. That couldn’t be good for them emotionally; teens were just so _vulnerable._ Heck, even the purple superhero that was around few years back was much older than Ladybug and Chat Noir. But the stress must have got to her too because she stopped. Or disappeared as some said. Information about her was so scarce that it could have been either.

If someone offered Nathalie the mask she’d turn it down. Her conscience was already filled with guilt and regret. Another burden would be too much.  
********************************************************************************************************************************************************  
She was late. They agreed that she’d give him an update at 4:45 and it was now 5:00. She ran up the stairs, down the hall to the study, and knocked.

“Mr. Agreste?” 

His usual reply of _Ah Nathalie_ didn’t follow. She tried the door and it opened with a creak. He wasn’t there. 

Her phone vibrated. 

_Late but here_

Nathalie was puzzled. Was he asking if she had arrived or telling her that he was running late? If that was the case, why didn’t he tell her to meet at the office? It would have saved them time. 

_Gab--_

She caught herself. She deleted it and wrote in its place:

_I just got here._

She pressed _send._

Her phone went back into her coat pocket, her body turned, and her legs began to move. Before her mind could process the decision, her hand rapped against the bedroom door.

“Ah. Nathalie.”

The knob turned and she set foot into the room for the first time in five years. 

He was at the mirror. His hands straightened out his red and white striped tie and adjusted the length so the point sat at the top of his stomach. They moved to smooth back his collar before he turned towards her.

“Gabriel,” she blurted. “I’m sorry I’m late; I got stuck in traffic.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he moved closer to her. “So tell me. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” short and to the point.

“And Adrien?”

“He still doesn’t want to go back.”

“Good,” he nodded.

_Good? **Good?** Adrien’s a **mess** _

But she remained calm as she asked:

“Anything more?”

She should have chosen her words more carefully. _Else_ implied attending to the task at hand. _More,_ was open to interpretation.

“I never got the chance to thank you properly for forwarding me that email,” he said. “You prevented a catastrophe in the making.”

His long fingers brushed a speck of dust off his tie. Her eyes traced the outline of his lips, thin and a fleshy pink. She counted each ridge on his bottom lip as it hung open. The tip of her tongue protruded out and slid against her upper lip, her mouth—

Her teeth pulled her tongue back in and clamped her mouth shut.

“No problem sir,” she answered.

Her heel hit the floor.

_Click-clack_

The walls closed in on the both of them.

_Click-clack_

The edges of the furniture sharpened. Light bounced off the items on the surfaces.

_Click-clack_

Shadows caressed the space where the jewelry box once sat on the nightstand. 

_Click-clack_

His eyes lingered on her as she left.  
**************************************  
The doorbell rang just as she reached the foot of the stairs. There was no use going back up to answer it by camera so Nathalie settled for the old fashioned way.

She opened to find a girl around fourteen or fifteen standing in front of her. She held a white package tied together with a red ribbon in her arms.

“Um I-um… is Adrien home?” She asked.

This girl was very casual chic. Rolled up pink skinny jeans, a cute white shirt with a pink flower design, ballet flats (god she loved ballet flats). This girl could even pull off _pigtails._ (She knew from her own youth back in the late 90s and early 00s that pigtails on girls older than a certain age either looked incredible or horrific) She wished she wasn’t working so she could compliment her but business took over.

“He’s out,” Nathalie informed her.

“Oh,” the girl looked both relieved and disappointed. “I’m-I’m from his school and I was making cookies and had some left over and I—uh—“

“I’ll take them,” Nathalie took the box from her hands.

“Thank you,” the girl said. “Is he doing ok?” She asked.

“He’s …fine,” Nathalie lied before shutting the door on her. 

Nathalie envied her and the rest of the lovestruck world. They were caught in a never-ending cycle of superficial worries. Teenage girls graduated from worrying about how to get boys to notice them and choosing the right brand of lipgloss for that perfect kiss to keeping up with the hottest trends and spicing it up in bed in their twenties and thirties. Whenever her friends ranted about their boyfriends and husbands, Nathalie had to stifle a laugh. What did they know about _real_ problems? Did they really think that it would be the end of the world if they couldn’t lose weight in time for bikini season, had a blowout over a misunderstanding,a so called boring sex life, or weren’t in sync with their significant other 24/7?

There was one man after Gabriel. A writer of middling height and average weight, who was three years older than she was. He had chestnut shaggy hair and stubble on his cheeks. His eyes were almond shaped, and his lips thick and reddish. A friend introduced them at a party. It was love at first sight for him, and he let the world knew how much he adored her. Swinging his hand in hers as they walked down the street, an arm around her waist, pressing his lips against hers’, her cheek, her hair. Leaning in to whisper in her ear:

_I love you. I love you so much._

She felt empty. His words, gestures, passion failed to ignite a response. Yet she strung him along for a year. It was cold and selfish of her, but she wanted to be sure that she could still _feel._

Their last night together he surprised her by showing up at her apartment with a bouquet of roses and a bottle of wine. They swayed back and forth to jazz song and but her heart didn’t lift when he sang the lyrics to her. Her cheeks flushed from wine she guzzled and not from the heat on his lips when he kissed her. And when they made love, she felt nothing when he called her name.

And after, he turned towards her and asked:

“Nathalie? Do you love me?” 

She didn’t answer. She stared up at the ceiling.

“Have you _ever_ loved me?”

She closed her eyes and reopened them. She avoided his gaze.

“No.”

She could hear his heart shatter as he let out a shaky breath.  
***************************************************************  
Adrien was excited when he got back from fencing practice to find a platter of cookies on the kitchen table.

“These are really good!” He exclaimed between bites. “Who made them?”

“Some girl from your school. She dropped them off earlier,” Nathalie said.

“Was it Marinette? Her dad’s a baker,” Adrien mentioned.

“I don’t know,” Nathalie admitted.

Adrien reached for another cookie. Nathalie raised an eyebrow but her lips curled up into what could pass for a smile.

“What’s this?”

Adrien’s hand went back to his side as Gabriel entered the room. A loose black tie hung around his shirt collar.

“One of my friends made me cookies. Do you want one?” 

“Adrien does it look like I have time to eat? I’m in a hurry, the meeting is in an hour—“

“What about you Nathalie?” Adrien held out the platter to her.

“No thank you. I’ll have one later,” she said.

“They _always_ do this to me!” Gabriel complained as he started to tie his tie. “I have to drive halfway across Paris and those—“

“Let me do that for you,” Nathalie went up to him and took hold of the two ends of the tie and crossed them over. She leaned in as she slipped the wide end through the loop and pulled the tie up. 

“There,” she straightened his collar and gave him a smile.

“Thank you,” Gabriel’s voice lightened up.

“I hope your meeting goes well,” she said.

She glanced over at Adrien with an apprehensive look. She stepped back from his father.

“Excuse me,” she hurried out.

Just when Adrien thought that he and Nathalie could get along, he did something to upset her.  
*****************************************************************************************************  
Nathalie turned up the volume on the song just as the drowsiness kicked in. She opened up a new tab and typed in _shades of red_ in the search bar. She studied the tie on her desk before clicking back on the email.

**The Men’s Collection will offer a variety of colors including navy blue, ruby red**

She backspaced. Ruby red was clunky and filled with hard sounding consonants. Scarlet was the better choice: mysterious, alluring, and rolled easily off the tongue. She nodded her head to the beat as she typed in the next sentence. She didn’t realize that she was humming along.

_Say, say my name. I need a little love to ease the pain_

“Nathalie?” Someone whispered just over her headphones.

“Mhm?” She spun around and took them out. Gabriel was standing behind her. It was late in the evening but he was still dressed in the same outfit he had on during the day: a white shirt with a purple tie, and a pair of gray slacks. 

“I can’t believe you’re still here,” he chuckled.

“What time is it?” She asked, forgetting that the computer was in front of her. 

“Nearly eleven.”

_Shit._ She was supposed to leave two _hours_ ago.

“You’ve been working too hard. You need a break.”

“Ah I'm so sorry! I should get home, I’m keeping you from sleep—“

“Don’t be sorry,” his eyes scanned her down from the middle of her face to the bottom of her chest.

A distorted thumping buzzed from her headphones. A woman’s breathy voice meshed with the beat. 

_‘Cause it feels like I’ve been I’ve been here before_

The feeling she tried to suppress surfaced. Her skin felt hot and her heart beat fast. 

_You are not my savior but I still don’t go_

“How long have you been waiting to go to bed?” She asked.

_Feels like something that I’ve done before. I could fake it but I still want more._

“Oh Nathalie,” he answered. “I’ve been waiting for a _long_ time.”

Her fingers flexed as she gazed at the tie around his neck.

_It was pitch black. The hallway stretched for miles. Adrien carried himself as fast as he could for a body so small like his'. The carpet rose up and he tumbled to the ground. A scream came from the distance_

Nathalie took hold of the tie and pulled him in. His lips crashed against hers. Her glasses collided into the bridge of his nose as his tongue prodded her mouth open.

_Adrien was on his feet and he burst out into a run. Panting, he opened his mouth and shouted:_

_“Mom! Mom!” His high voice rang like a bell._

Her nimble fingers loosened his tie. The knot came undone as she leaned in so close that their bodies pressed together.

_“Adrien! Adrien help me!” Echoed all around him._

The purple fabric slid from her fingers. It dropped to the floor. One second they were in the study and the next he closed the bedroom door behind them.

_“Mom!” Adrien yelled._

_There were two shadows at the far end of the hall. One was a woman’s and the light from the window hit her butterfly necklace as she tried to hold her arm out._

“Nathalie…Nathalie…” He grunted into her ear.

_“Adrien!” His mother screamed as the kidnapper forcefully placed a necktie over her mouth. She gagged. He yanked the end of the tie towards him and she squealed._

“Gabriel,” Nathalie’s voice shook as she stared into his eyes.

_The kidnapper began to lead his mother away. Adrien sunk to his knees._

_**“Mom!”** _

Adrien woke up in a cold sweat. 

“Mom,” he muttered, scared. “Mom.”

“It’s just a nightmare. It’s just a nightmare. You’re gonna be ok,” Plagg had seen this play out before and was ready with his response.

“He-he tied her with a tie with a purple tie—“

Adrien burst into tears. Plagg knew that words wouldn't help this time. He moved up and nestled his head against Adrien’s shoulder. The boy embraced him and stroked the back of his head.

Suddenly he let go and sat up.

“Did you hear that?” He whispered.

“What?” Plagg asked.

“I heard something,” Adrien anxiously said. “There was something—“

“All you should be worried about is getting shut eye,” Plagg told him. “If it bothers you so much; I’ll stand guard.”

Adrien lay back down and closed his eyes.

“Thanks Fifi,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Do I look like a Fifi to you?” Plagg sarcastically said. His green eyes lit up the dark room until he too sunk down to the bed and curled up on the pillow.  
************************************************************************************************************************************************************  
Nathalie lay on the king sized bed. The sheets were sprawled about and she stared up at the ceiling as Gabriel snoozed by her side. As she let herself fall asleep, she took one glance at him and back up as she thought:

_Oh god. We’re back to **this.** _


	4. The Birthday

_Ding_

Adrien pushed the bakery door open and stepped inside. The smell of freshly baked bread and pastries wafted against his nose. He breathed in and let out an _ah_.

“Are we also gonna get breakfast?” Plagg poked his head out of Adrien’s jacket pocket.

“We’re picking up croissants too. It’s only gonna take like five minutes,” Adrien said under his breath.

“This is torture! I’m _starving!_ ” Plagg whined.

“Plagg, don’t be _catty._ ”

The kwami groaned and placed his paws over his ears. Adrien snickered. 

“Adri— _en?”_

He stopped in his tracks. Plagg retreated back into the pocket before he could be seen. Marinette was standing behind the counter. She nervously grinned as her face turned beet red.

“Hey Marinette,” he waved.

She slowly held up her hand and wiggled her fingers back at him.

“Uh what can you—I-I mean I do for you?”

“I need to pick up a cake,” Adrien handed her the pickup number.

“Gotcha—I mean on it!” She rushed over to the kitchen.

“Can I get some croissants too?” Adrien held up a finger.

“Yep!”

In less than a minute, Marinette was back with the small white box and a bag of hot croissants. She placed them in a brown paper bag.

“That will be twenty,” she said.

He paid and took the bag.

“Are you having a party today?” She was calmer.

“Kinda,” he answered.

“Have fun,” she said. Her cheeks slightly dimpled as she beamed at him.

“Thanks!” He smiled back.

_Ding_

Adrien balanced the bag as he started down the sidewalk. Plagg popped out of the jacket and let out a snort.

“What?”

“She _likes_ you,” he said in a singsong voice.

“Come on Plagg, Marinette doesn’t like me like that. She just gets nervous really easily. If she liked me, she’d be flirting with me,” Adrien laughed.

“Adrien,” Plagg started. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re a smart kid. But there are some things that just go over your head. You’re the most _innocent_ Chat Noir I’ve ever met.”

“Innocent?”

“It’s not a bad thing; it’s just who you are,” Plagg explained. “Man, if you _knew_ some of the stuff the other Chat Noirs did, you’d be screaming your head off.”

“Like what? Tell me!” Adrien was curious. 

“Nah. You don’t wanna know,” Plagg said. 

“Come on. Please!” Adrien begged.

“Fine! I'll tell you _one_ thing. But _you_ have to give me a croissant."  
*********************************************************************************************************  
Adrien tapped the end of the pen against his desk. The empty card lay in front of him. He looked up at the picture frame and sadly sighed.

“This your mom?”

Plagg hovered over to the frame and plopped down in front of it.

“Yeah,” Adrien hoarsely said. 

“I’ve never seen a photo of her before. How come?”

“Dad gets sad when he remembers her.”

“She’s pretty,” Plagg remarked.

“Yeah. She is. Everyone says I look like dad but I think I look more like her.”

The thought cheered him up. He placed the tip of the pen down on the blank space and began to write.

Plagg’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the photo. He moved his face in closer to the edge of the frame.

“Plagg,” Adrien rolled his eyes. “I get it. You think she’s cute. But she’s my _mom._ ”

“No! It’s—never mind,” Plagg turned back to him. “What’d cha write?”

Adrien cleared his throat:

_Happy Birthday Mom!_  
_I hope you get to celebrate wherever you are. I’ve grown so much in the past year and even though people say I look like dad, there are times where I look in the mirror and see more of you. When we see each other again, you tell me what you think._  
_I love you to the stars and back,_  
_Adrien_  
***********************  
The white tablecloth and the fancy silverware had been put out on the dining room table. In the center sat a glass vase filled with violets, with Adrien's card propped against it. One of the staff had begun to cut the cake. Adrien gazed across the table at his father and Nathalie as he was served.

“It’s so nice for you to join us Nathalie,” Gabriel told her.

“I didn’t want you and Adrien to be alone,” she replied.

Her fingers lightly grazed against the back of his hand. They coiled up as she set her wrist back down at the side of her plate.

"How much cake do you want sir?" The server asked Gabriel. 

“A small piece," Gabriel said.

Adrien picked up his spoon and waited until his father started to eat. Gabriel scooped up a tiny piece and chewed.

“This is good. Where did you get this?” Gabriel asked.

“The bakery on Gotlib street. It’s around the corner from school," Adrien said.

“I’ve never heard of it before. Have you Nathalie?”

“No, I haven't."

“I wish your mother was here. She loves chocolate and purple buttercream frosting," Gabriel added as he stared down at his slice.

“How well did you know my mom Nathalie?” Adrien asked her.

“Not too well. I only met her a few times,” Nathalie said after taking a bite. “She was…nice.”

There was a clang as Gabriel’s spoon dropped to the ground. It landed under the table.

“Ah, how clumsy of me,” he muttered. 

“I can get that—“Adrien started.

“No I’ll get it,” Gabriel moved his chair back and bent down. He disappeared underneath the tablecloth. 

Adrien shrugged. He cut himself another piece before turning back to Nathalie.

“Uh, what else did you think about her?”

“Your mom, well—“ She paused, lost in thought. “She was-- _ah! My leg!_ ”

She jumped up in her seat.

“Nathalie?” Adrien was concerned.

“Sorry!” Gabriel’s voice came from below. “The spoon just _slid_ from my grasp and I _lost_ my balance—ah there it is!”

He returned back up with the spoon in his left hand. He wiped it with his napkin and transferred it into his right. He broke off another piece of cake.

“Gabriel if you continue being a _klutz_ perhaps you should let other people take over in case it leads to more _accidents_ ,” she said.

“You give such _good_ advice Nathalie. I’ll _pay more attention_ next time.”

Adrien started on his second slice.  
********************************************************  
_The scent of hot chocolate and croissants greeted him as he walked into the dining room. He burst into a smile and held out his arms._

_“Happy Birthday mom!” Adrien embraced his mother._

_“Aw thank you sweetie!” She kissed the top of his head._

_“I made you a card,” he held out it to her. The front of the card was outlined by a purple border and had a butterfly drawn in the middle._

_She opened it and read:_

_“Happy Birthday Mom! Make it the best one yet with lots of cake! I love you to the stars and back, Adrien. Oh darling, thank you! I’ll put it right next to the flowers.”_

_Marie straightened it out and set it next to the glass vase that held a bouquet of violets._

_“Aw I thought I was gonna be the first one to wish you happy birthday this year.”_

_Gabriel placed his arms around her from behind and loudly smacked his lips against her ear. She laughed._

_“Honey you’re not missing out on **anything.** I've got my two favorite boys right here with me. What more could I want?" _

_She turned around and faced him. He took out a small black box that had a purple bow placed on top._

_“Happy birthday my little butterfly.”_

_She opened the box. Inside was a pink flower shaped brooch._

_“This is beautiful!” She exclaimed as she took it out and pinned it to her shirt._

_“I designed it especially for you,” he whispered._

_“Aw thank you,” Marie leaned up to give her husband a kiss._

_“That’s not the **only** present you’re gonna get,” Gabriel said with a wink. _

_Her lips stretched into a smile as they pressed against his’._


	5. The Moonlight

Ladybug was a goddess under the moonlight.

The cool night air rustled through her raven hair. A blue halo adorned her head as she turned. Her azure eyes sparkled and she batted her long, thick eyelashes. Her lips, plump and pink, parted.

_Oh Ladybug my goddess divine. Will I be yours and you be mine?_

She spoke.

“I don’t think this is a good idea Chat.”

Her words floated against the wind and tickled his ears. He perked his head up and asked:

“Why not My Lady?”

“What happens when we turn back? During the day it’s easy to take the metro or walk home but at _night?_ We’ll be targeted just like everyone else.”

“We’ll just keep in the area,” Chat Noir said.

“And how are we going to find out about any akumas? Even news channels need a rest and won’t report anything ‘til morning.”

“We can go after thugs!” Chat Noir pounded his fist into his hand.

“Chat did you even think this through?” She asked.

“Well…it was a s _purr_ of the moment decision!” 

Ladybug let out a sound in between a sigh and a giggle. 

“Let’s go,” she said.

Long gone were the cars that sped on the streets and the crowds of people bustling on the sidewalks. The heroes’ movements pierced the eerie calmness of the deserted streets. Ladybug’s yo-yo whizzed at a high-pitched frequency. Their footsteps clattered as they darted across the rooftops. Pants and whispers echoed in his eardrums as they paused to catch their breath or speak.

The night dragged on. Nothing strange came their way. In the end, they sat on the rooftop of an apartment building close to the Dupont school.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Ladybug asked as they gazed out at the outlines of buildings and the lights in the distance.

_Not as beautiful as you_ Chat Noir wanted to say.

“Yeah,” he agreed. 

“I’ve lived here all my life but it seems like everyday there’s something new to discover. That’s what I love most about this city.”

She stared at the view in front of her, completely enthralled. The moonlight cast a heavenly glow on her.

_She is so beautiful_

Chat Noir’s hand inched over to hers. Just as his fingers were about to brush against her palm, he stopped. He nervously glanced at her, wondering if she’d push him away like all the other times.

To his surprise, Ladybug took his hand and faced him.

“Chat? Can you be honest with me? Are you doing ok?”

“What are you talking about My Lady? I’m fine,” he said.

“I _know_ something’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing,” Chat Noir said.

“Is it? You haven’t been yourself for the past few _weeks._ And it’s not just that you haven’t been making horrible puns or that you've been cranky and grumpy. You’ve been taking _way_ too many risks by charging at the akumas straight on. If it weren’t for your Miraculous you’d be in the _hospital._ ”

“We can’t all be at one hundred per—“

“It’s _scaring_ me Chat! I don’t want the day to come where you’ll get seriously _hurt._ ”

“I’m not gonna get hurt! I can take care of myself!”

“Please!” Ladybug exclaimed. “You’re more than just a crime fighting partner, you’re my _friend._ I don’t want you to go through this alone.”

She squeezed his hand.

“I want to help you,” Ladybug whispered. 

Her starry eyes blinked and held its gaze. He lifted her hand and pulled it in.

“I wish you could too My Lady.”

He puckered up his lips against the back of her hand. He looked up to see that her eyes were full of tears.  
************************************************************************************************************  
Chat Noir hoisted himself up on the vine as he scaled up to the guest room. It would be more convenient to climb back through his bedroom window and spare himself a minute long walk through the hall, but it faced the street and was covered with a mesh screen on the inside.

A dim white shadow covered the pane as he pressed a hand against the glass. He shrunk down his staff to the size of a screwdriver, slid it under the rail crack, and pried it open.

With a leap he landed on the other side. He got up, closed the window, and started to head out. The floor creaked underneath and he heard a breathy sound come from his right.

He flinched and lifted his head out. It was coming from the bed. Chat Noir’s hand went to his staff as he braced himself for what might be an intruder.

_Nathalie?_

Her long black hair cascaded down her back. A thin pajama strap crossed her shoulder and was attached to a flimsy nightgown. Her glasses lay on the nightstand and below that, a half opened suitcase.

Chat Noir stared at her confused. They had not been planning on having guests over, and his father would never allow one of the staff to stay overnight. Before his mother disappeared, the evening staff would leave at around nine thirty to ten. Now, they had to be out by nine on the dot. He might trust Nathalie for working with him for eight or so years, but would not treat her like if she were one of his colleagues from the office that he regularly went out for drinks or played golf with. 

Chat Noir scooted back as Nathalie turned in her sleep. He spun around and ran to the door. The knob clicked and the door closed behind him.  
*************************************************************************************************************************************************  
They were _so_ close.

The moonlight illuminated the observatory as the window opened. The butterflies circled about as Hawkmoth held his arm out.

The excitement pumped through his veins. His Miraculous glowed a deep purple as he grinned.

“Not even the cover of night can hide you now!” he exclaimed. “Your Miraculouses will be _mine._ ”

He scanned the area for signs of conflict. He zoned in on an argument coming from the third floor of an apartment building. 

_“Why can’t you just tell me the **truth?** ”_

_“I told you! I love you!”_

“Ah, a lover’s quarrel,” Hawkmoth mused as he beckoned a butterfly to land on his palm. “Passions gone sour, tensions arise. Now which one should I akumatize?” 

His hand hovered over the butterfly…

_“Then why are you sleeping with **him?** ” _

Hawkmoth lifted his hand. The butterfly flew off, untouched.

It wasn’t worth it. He couldn’t akumatize on a whim alone. By the time he made the deal, Ladybug and Chat Noir would be gone.

And just like that, they slipped from his grasp again.

The window closed, leaving him in the darkness.

“Next time,” Hawkmoth threatened.

There was a flash of purple light as he reverted back to normal. Gabriel Agreste opened his eyes and exhaled. He straightened out his glasses. His hand absentmindedly touched the pink, flower shaped brooch that was pinned to his jacket. 

A half an hour later he was walking through the second floor hallway. He stopped at the guest room door and opened it a crack.

Nathalie was lying face up on the bed with the covers pulled up to her stomach. The dim light from outside cast a soft light against her cheeks and neck. Her chest rose and fell as it stretched against her purple nightgown. Her lips slightly opened as she breathed.

“Are you dreaming of me, Nathalie?” He whispered.

He shut the door and continued down the hall.


	6. The Shoebox

“Hey Plagg? Do these shoes go with the suit?” 

Adrien held a frumpy pair of loafers in one hand and a hanger with his freshly ironed suit in the other. He extended his arms out at an angle as he tried to determine if the suit and shoes were the same shade of brown.

“Plagg?”

The kwami sat back against the picture of Adrien’s mom on the desk. He rolled his shoulders back and rubbed the back of his head against the picture as he grabbed a piece of cheese and stuffed it into his mouth. 

“Plagg!”

“What?” Plagg groaned as he threw down the last morsel of cheese.

“My mom’s picture is not a beach chair!” Adrien exclaimed in an exasperated tone. 

“I’m a cat Adrien, it’s completely acceptable for us to curl up against things we like!”

“Not my _mom!_ ” Adrien had a grossed out look on his face.

“Ok, ok. I get it. I won’t do it again. So what’s the thing with the shoes?” Plagg flew over and landed on his shoulder. 

“Do they go with my suit?”

Plagg placed a paw under his chin and let out a _hmm._

“Eh…you sure you want me to tell you?”

“Yeah,” Adrien said.

“They’re ugly,” Plagg said flatly.

Adrien sighed as he put the shoes on the ground.

“I know,” he agreed. “I wish I could take my black shoes but they’re still being polished. Unless…”

Adrien mischievously grinned.

“Wanna see what my dad’s room is like?”

Plagg smirked.

“Go on.”  
***********  
Adrien glanced back one last time before turning the doorknob. He motioned for Plagg to follow as they stepped inside.

“Neat,” Plagg said as he took in the room.

Adrien opened the closet door. He knelt down and faced the two rows of shoeboxes that lined the floor.

“We gotta be fast. Dad will be back in a half an hour,” he said as he grabbed the box closest to him. 

They quickly went through the first row. The only dress shoes they found were a pair of blue derbys, and black oxfords that were too tight.

“What about this?” Plagg held up a brown lace up boot.

“I can’t wear boots to a nice dinner,” Adrien grabbed a black shoebox and took off the top.

“Huh?” Adrien said as he glanced down. “What—“

Plagg suddenly froze. His whiskers curled up and his ears wiggled. 

“Someone’s coming! We gotta get outta here!” He shouted.

Adrien covered the box and put it back. The doorknob rattled. He moved back in the closet and Plagg shut the door.

His father entered the room. Through a tiny crack, Adrien and Plagg watched as Gabriel removed his jacket and undid his tie and belt. He placed them neatly on the bed and knelt down. He stepped out of his brown oxfords and set them next to the nightstand. A click from the bathroom came as the lights were turned on. The door closed and the sound of running water followed.

It was their chance to escape. Plagg eyed the shoes and went to grab them.

“Forget about it!” Adrien yanked him by the tail and dragged him out.  
***********************************************************************  
_Marie’s fingers slid through her hair as she rinsed out the last of the shampoo. The suds dripped down her leg and circled about the drain. She held her head back as the water crashed down on her._ _A creak came from the other side of the room. She placed a hand on the glass and wiped the excess water away. She peered through and saw a blur of yellows, whites, and grays standing by the sink._  
_The faucet squeaked and the water trickled and stopped. Marie grabbed her hair in a bunch and rung it out. Steam filled the room as she opened the shower door._  
_“Hi honey,” she said softly._  
_A bottle of cologne sat on the counter. He pushed the medicine cabinet shut._  
_“Hi dear,” Gabriel replied to the bathroom mirror._  
_Cool air brushed against her skin. Marie shivered. She went to cross her arms but they hung limp by her side._  
_**Look at me.** _  
_He turned. The steam fogged up his glasses._  
_**Please.** _  
_His lips didn’t turn up into a smile nor did they frown. He jerkily grabbed the bottle and left her in the cold._  
***************************************************************************************************************************  
Adrien leaned on the desk with a hand on his cheek. He tapped his pencil against his textbook as he stared ahead with a far off look.

“Ugh. Math,” Plagg piped up from his shoulder. “You know I’ve been around for 5000 years and I _still_ don’t get why you humans are so obsessed with numbers.” 

“Hey Plagg? Can I ask you a question?” Adrien asked. 

“Oh hell no! I’m not—“ 

“What do you do when you get a feeling that people are hiding things from you?” 

Plagg plopped down on the textbook. 

“Like what?” 

“Remember when we went to look for shoes for that dinner? Remember the last box—“ 

“Look, Adrien. Sometimes people--” Plagg started. 

“There was a receipt with my mom’s name on it.” 

Plagg became quiet. 

“Before she disappeared my mom’s credit card got hacked. She was being charged for all this weird stuff. She used to call the bank nearly every single day, but they didn’t find out who did it. My dad didn’t want to be bothered with it and he hated whenever she brought it up. But why would he keep her receipts?” 

“But you only saw one,” Plagg pointed out. 

“That was clipped to a bunch of other receipts,” Adrien said. “You might think I’m crazy but what if dad knows why she was taken? Like what if the kidnapper went for her credit card first and threatened my dad to not get involved? And then mom finally was able to get the guy to stop but then was kidnapped? But then why would the guy use her card to buy lingerie and perfume?” 

Adrien leaned back in his chair and sighed. 

“Maybe I’m looking too much into this. It’s stupid. I should worry about stuff that matters,” he said. 

“Of course it matters. It’s your _mom,_ ” Plagg assured him. “She’s one of the most important people in your life, and you're gonna worry about her and come up with stuff to understand why she's gone. And hey, there might be a chance that you could be right! But there’s only one way to find out.” 

He glanced over at the door. 

“You’re a horrible influence,” Adrien chuckled.  
************************************************  
_Marie crouched down in front of the cabinet. She slid the key into the lock and turned. A click and the drawer slid out. Her hands reached inside and took out a black shoebox._

The heist was successful. The box lay on the desk directly under the overhead lamp. Adrien sat down in the chair and flexed his fingers. 

“You ready?” He asked Plagg. 

_For a second Marie hesitated. She nervously held the box in her lap as she thought about how low she had sunk. She wished she still was the foolish, lovestruck girl who had fallen for Gabriel when she was only seventeen. She might have been young and naïve, but that girl loved him unconditionally. She would never dream about going through her husband’s things because she worried that the trust between them fell through. She had been a stupid girl, but at least she had been **happy.**_  
_She could not turn back now. She needed **answers** not the fears that kept her up at night. Marie placed both hands on the opposite sides of the box and pulled the top off. _

A freshwater opera length pearl necklace: 137 euros, purchased 10 Dec 2010. A bottle of Chanel No.5: 145 euros, purchased on 3 Jan 2011. A black bustier set from Aubade: 109 euros, purchased on 16 Feb 2011… 

“Ok so the hacker was a woman. She spied on my mom, got into her account, bought whatever she wanted, and then stopped after mom disappeared because my dad canceled the account,” Adrien concluded. 

“I don’t think it was just a nobody. The person had to have been pretty close to your mom to get in. And especially if they’ve been at it since 2009,” Plagg crumpled up his receipt into a ball and sat on it. 

“Wait! My receipts go back to 2010! What does yours say?” 

“Eh nothing really,” Plagg avoided Adrien’s stare as he bounced up and down on the receipt ball. 

_“We’ve been together for fourteen years,” Marie said to herself. “I know what he likes! I know his **tastes!** He wouldn’t buy—“_

A stack of glossy squares bound together by a purple ribbon was the next item in the box. Adrien picked them up. 

“Pictures? Why are they facedown?” 

He flipped them right side up and his eyes widened. 

“Is that **Nathalie?** ” 

_One by one the pictures fell to the floor as she went through them. Every single angle, curve, and gaze was burned into her mind. Her eyes stung from the tears she held back. Her lips trembled as a cry bubbled in her throat._

Prim and proper Nathalie was clad in a form fitting, red babydoll. Her long brown hair flowed over her shoulders as she seductively leaned forward on the bed. Her eyes beckoned the viewer to join her. 

“I-I didn’t know she modeled,” Adrien tried to convince himself. 

Plagg snatched the photos out of his hand. 

“Give that back!” Adrien exclaimed. 

“It’s not worth it man!” Plagg retorted as he hovered away from Adrien’s grasp. 

“I have to know! Plagg give them back!" 

_She reached for the last item in the box._

The disc was dated 21/5/10. Adrien slid it into the cd drive on his computer and waited to see what popped up. 

“Don’t do this!” Plagg’s pleaded. 

_It was a video. She moved the mouse and pressed play._

_After a quick pan of the hotel room, Gabriel positioned the camera in front of him and grinned._

_**And it’s up** He said in a sing song voice. _

Adrien’s jaw dropped as he watched Nathalie strut in and place her hands on his father’s chest. 

_Marie could feel her heart breaking into a million tiny pieces with each second._  
**It is?** _Nathalie crooned as she sultrily winked at the camera. His hands grabbed her by the waist and pulled her in._  
**Ah Nathalie you don’t know how irresistible you are when you act like that. It makes me--**

Adrien placed a hand over his mouth as he inched back from the screen. 

“Oh my god!” He exclaimed. 

His father’s lips jutted out as they smashed against Nathalie’s--- 

Plagg turned off the video. 

_Marie forced herself to keep on watching. The remains of her heart reformed into a dagger and stabbed her again and again; in her eyes, her throat, and the empty cavity where it once sat. Her mascaraed tears stained her cheeks. The rattling in her throat came out as a wheeze, and her whole body felt numb as she watched them, watched him, ruin her life._  
_Ten minutes and twenty seconds later she became aware that the footage stopped rolling. She sat in the computer chair in a daze as she pulled her knees up to her chest and rocked back and forth._

Adrien lowered his head down on the desk and began to cry. 

_Marie heard someone faintly call out to her over the sounds of her sobs_  
_"Mom?"_  
_She raised a hand to wipe her face._  
_"A-drien?" She managed to get out._  
_"Mom are you ok?"_  
_She squeezed her eyes shut as hot tears streaked down her cheeks. She titled her head back and shakily breathed._  
_"I'm fine," she lied._  
_She heard her son approach and attempted to compose herself again._  
_"Is your father coming home tonight?" She hoped that the tremble in her voice wouldn’t betray her._  
_"Yeah. He's coming at ten…ish I think."_  
_She finally turned. Her heart sunk once again as she gazed upon the child that came to be from the love she and Gabriel once shared._  
_“Ok.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a playlist like I did for Heartless: http://8tracks.com/goofyplaylists/soulless


	7. The Question

Nathalie knocked for the third time.

“Adrien! Dinner’s ready!” She exclaimed loudly.

“I’m not feeling well. Can I have dinner up here?” he grumbled from the other side. 

“Your father’s home and you know he doesn’t like to wait,” Nathalie brusquely replied.

_Ugh. I sound like a 50s housewife_

“But I don’t feel well,” his voice cracked.

Nathalie’s hand fell by her side.

“At least let me have a look at you.”

The doorknob turned and Adrien stepped out. His eyes were red and watery. Creases lined his face. 

It had been nearly a month since Adrien had been home. Were those kids _still_ bothering him? The hate on his Facebook and Twitter died out immediately after he left school, but Nathalie knew that there was a possibility that Adrien had accounts that she and Gabriel had no knowledge of.

She wasn’t sure if he was sick, but he was clearly upset about something. 

“Do you have a fever?” She asked as she reached out to feel his forehead.

He turned his head away from her and moved back into his room.

“Stomach,” he said. 

Adrien was lying, but she chose to accept it. 

“I’ll tell Charlene to bring up some soup for you. Get some rest and feel better.”

Gabriel was not happy about starting dinner ten minutes late.

“Where’s Adrien?” 

“He has a stomach ache,” Nathalie told him.

“Well why couldn’t he tell you before I got here?” Gabriel complained. 

“I think it was all of the sudden.”

_Dear._

Gabriel sighed as he sipped from his wine glass.

“I take time out of my schedule to have dinner with my son and he gets a stomach ache,” he muttered.

“It’s just bad luck,” Nathalie said. “Don’t take it personally.”

_You always do._  
******************************  
Adrien pushed the carrots and mushrooms with the back of his spoon. Little ripples cut through the soup’s surface as he scooped up the pieces and dumped them back in the bowl. 

“You gonna eat that chicken?” Plagg pointed to the boiled chicken breast on the other plate.

“Go ahead,” Adrien mumbled.

Plagg chomped down on the chicken. Spit and tiny shreds of chicken flew everywhere.

“Mm! Mm! Delish!” He smacked his lips.

Adrien got up from his seat and headed over to the bed. He laid down and buried his head in his pillow. 

Plagg’s whiskers drooped. He floated over towards Adrien and gently curled up on his shoulder.

“Why do people cheat?” Adrien asked.

Plagg thought it over before answering. 

“Cheating’s a messy business. It’s not easy to explain.”

“But dad _loved_ mom! People who love each other that much wouldn’t even _think_ about cheating right?”

“I don’t know what went on with your folks but most of the time it’s more than just they fell out of love. Some people are bored or unhappy with their life and will do anything to make it full again. Others do it for the same reason you’d go on that fifty foot high roller coaster or hurl yourself from a plane and parachute down; for the thrill of it. And there are some people who don’t even think that what they’re doing is cheating. To them it’s just sex, nothing more.”

Adrien lifted his head up. He bent his arms as he pulled himself upright. Plagg skittered back and floated over to meet him at eye level. Adrien crossed his legs, picked up the pillow, and held it close to his chest.

“When I first found out about sex, what really grossed me out was that knowing that mom and dad did it to have me," Adrien started. "You kinda worship your parents and you don't wanna believe they'd do stuff like that, but they're human like everyone else. I remember dad used to be really affectionate towards my mom when I was little and I guess that also means they used to do it a lot too." 

Adrien grimaced as he rested his chin on the top of the pillow. His fingers curled and sunk into the fabric.

“But then I got older and mom and dad weren't as close as they used to be; and dad cheats on her with Nathalie. Do you think they ever felt bad about what they did?”

“Look Adrien I’m no Socrates,” Plagg said. “But ideally people _should_ feel bad. Doesn’t always mean they will.”

Adrien wistfully sighed as he glanced about the room.

“This entire time I thought Nathalie hated me,”Adrien said. “But what if she’s so standoffish beca---“

The pillow slid from his grasp as he looked over at the desk. He zoomed in on the little silver spoon sitting next to the bowl.

“Oh my god. They’re _still_ having a thing.”  
*******************************************  
The bed’s weight shifted as her body sunk down into the mattress. She turned over to feel a puff of warm air against her mouth and chin. Her skin tingled as she breathed. Her tongue stuck out to taste the moisture in the air and her eyes fluttered open.

“It’s late,” Nathalie yawned. 

“But I’m here. Like I promised,"Gabriel whispered.

Her hands gripped onto his back and they rolled over face-up. He placed his hand on her lower leg as he leaned over her. Inch by inch, his hand slid up.

“Why do you get back so late? And don’t say my work is never done,” She murmured as her fingers played with his hair.

“There’s no such thing as a rest from work,” he lifted her leg and hoisted it over his hips. “Even when you sleep, your body uses up energy to make sure you get through 'til morning. It pumps blood from the heart, air into the lungs, dreams into your head…”

“You’re avoiding my question Mr. All Work And No Play,” Nathalie teasingly tapped her pointer finger against his lips. “Tell me and I might—“

Their eyes met. She squinted.

“What’s the matter with your eyes?”

“My eyes?”

His irises glowed a shocking electric violet. A blackish haze floated where his pupils should be. She froze in fear as it dawned upon her that she had seen that look in his eyes before.

Then in an instant, Gabriel’s eyes lightened up and softened. Puzzled, Nathalie cupped his face and stared into his eyes: now clear, and a deep blue.

“What—“

But with a kiss, she forgot about it. Her worries did not resurface until morning. She glanced up at the ceiling as she wondered if she imagined that his eyes had changed. She could not shake off the suspicion that they did; and realized if it was true, then it meant that he had done something horrible again.


	8. The Purple Kwami

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Huge trigger warning for violence for the middle of this chapter_

At exactly 9:05 am, a beautiful Sunday morning was ruined when Adrien arose to find Plagg in front of the photograph of his mother yet _again_ for the millionth time that month. And even though sweet natured Adrien had caught up on his beauty sleep, an ugly crankiness took over.

“Plagg? What the---Oh my god I cannot _believe_ you! I mean what the _hell_ man?” He blurted.

“Look I can—“

“Do _not_ give me that shit!” Adrien gestured wildly. 

“Whoa! Adri—“

“What part of she’s my _mom_ do you just not _get?_ ” 

“I’m not looking at your mom! It’s _Moira!_ ” 

“Her name is **Marie** you _perv!_ ” Adrien shouted. “You can’t even stop thinking with _whatever you have_ for five seconds to even remember her _name!_ ”

Plagg shot up from the desk. 

“I’m a _kwami_ Adrien! We don’t _mate!_ ” He sputtered. 

Adrien gagged as the smell of camembert and stilton wafted against his nose. He clutched the bedpost as Plagg moved in even closer.

“We don’t have _parts_ to _stick into_ or be _stuck into_ , or get those _disgusting_ urges like you hormonally ridden humans do! Maybe if _you_ got your mind out of the gutter, you’d realize that I’ve been staring at that _necklace_ which is obviously a **Miraculous!** ”

Adrien finally looked up at Plagg.

“You’re kidding,” he said, stunned. 

Plagg flew over back to the desk and grabbed the photo.

“I’m not! Look!” He thrust the photo at him. 

Adrien held the frame up. He glanced over Marie’s neck and collarbone to where the pendant lay. 

“There,” Plagg pointed at the center where the wings connected. 

A small purple circle stood out against the butterfly’s stick-like silver body. Adrien raised his finger and studied the little black mark on his ring where Plagg always entered when he transformed. It was the exact same shape and size as the one on his mother’s necklace.

“But—how—what—this--“ He glanced back and forth between the picture and his ring. His hands felt clammy. 

“Easy! Easy! Sit down!” Plagg shoved him back on the bed. “Now before I explain everything, you need to fess up,” he said.

“Sorry,” Adrien sighed as he sat up.

“Sorry’s not gonna cut it,” Plagg said as he wagged his paw.

“I was wrong. I’ll make it up to you,” Adrien grudgingly apologized.

“How are you gonna make it up to me?” Plagg gleefully asked.

“I’ll get you all the smelly cheese you want,” Adrien grumbled.

“Come again?” Plagg tilted his head and cupped his ear. “I can’t _hear_ you.”

“I’ll get your freaking cheese!” Adrien exclaimed.

Plagg laughed.

“I’m just kidding with ya,” he flicked his paw against Adrien’s cheek. “Now sit tight ‘cause this is gonna be a long one.”

Adrien crossed his legs and looked up at Plagg.

“That Miraculous belongs to a kwami named Moira. She can control emotions.”

“Emotions?”

“Yep. All she needs is to sense the mood and she’ll latch on. Got a group of people who are down in the dumps? Use her Miraculous and they’ll be in good spirits the moment you speak. There’s a robber holding people hostage? With her, you can talk him outta it and he’ll turn himself in. She’s one of the most powerful kwami out there, almost on the same level as me and T—Ladybug’s kwami.”

“The thing is, Moira’s young in kwami years; she came about in 400 BC so I guess that makes her a teenager in your terms, and well; she’s still figuring the whole kwami thing out. She doesn’t really go out and look for people to be Miraculous holders; she thinks that it’s up to fate or some crap like that to choose for her. So just about anyone who finds her gets to use her Miraculous. She has done a lot of good in the past. But also, a lot of bad…” 

**Belgium 1916: No Man’s Land**  
A reddish glow lit up the night air as it moved towards the center of the field. The kwami hovered in the air as she watched the purple glow approach her from the distance. The purple kwami stopped a few inches before her. They gazed at each other in silence as a cool breeze blew against them. Finally, Tikki spoke:

“Moira. I’m begging you, whatever you’re about to do don’t do it!” 

“Why?” Moira said coldly.

“It’s not right!”

“Why can’t I? I just want to help the humans like you do,” Moira replied.

“We’re not supposed to interfere on a widespread scale!” Tikki exclaimed. “We can’t let them influence us and we them! There’s a reason why we only stick with heroes. If governments and militaries started using us as weapons in their wars, they’d wipe out humanity itself!”

“Speak for yourself Tikki! You’re fighting with the Allies because you believe that it’s _right._ I don’t care who started this war, why they’re fighting it, and who will win. A German general found me, needed my assistance, and I was more than happy to help. I am _neutral_ as a kwami should be,” Moira curtly said. 

Tikki sadly glanced at Moira.

“Moira,” her voice was drowned out by the wind.

But the butterfly kwami had already disappeared into the night. 

Plagg bolted through the dark and damp tunnels of the trench to an opening where his Miraculous user: a nineteen year old from London, kept watch. 

“Chester! Chester!” He tugged on the sleeve of his olive green army jacket. 

“I just gave you cheese!” The young man laughed. “You’re still hungry?”

“Something’s coming! We have to transform _now!_ ” Plagg’s fur frizzled and stuck up on his arms and legs.

“What’s coming?” Chester asked, worried.

But before Plagg could say a word a cry came from above:

“Gas!”

Chester held out his right hand. A light sparkled from his ring.

“Plagg! Transform me!”

Black Cat rushed up to his fellow battalion members who huddled behind burlap sacks and rudimentary gas masks. A billowy purple cloud hung in the air.

“Impossible! The gas the Germans use is green,” Black Cat remarked.

“Black Cat! Thank go—“ A soldier started.

The gas struck the soldiers all at once. They collapsed to the ground as the smoke penetrated their skin. Several were overcome by convulsing fits. Others wheezed as they struggled to breathe. Vomit splattered on the ground. Murky tears streamed from red watery eyes. Cries echoed about the trench. 

Black Cat froze. He had never in his life needed Mademoiselle Coccinelle more than now. She had mentioned before that she was a nurse on the front lines and he figured she would know what to do in an aftermath of a gas attack. He hoped that she would show up.

A whimper came from Black Cat’s right. He kneeled down in front of a soldier who rocked back and forth. His hands trembled as he covered his eyes.

“I can’t see!” the soldier howled. “I can’t **see!** ”

“You’re alright. We are going to get help,” Black Cat tried to assure him. He reached out to place a hand on the soldier’s shoulder but he turned away.

“I—I can’t see!” The soldier groaned as he lowered his hands. His eyes were diluted and bloodshot.

“Come with me,” Black Cat said. “We’ll—“

An inhuman sound came from the soldier as his hands tensed and curled. He raised them.

“ **I can’t SEE!** ”

The soldier jabbed his fingers into his eyes. His nails scratched the surface and dug in deep. Blood flowed down his cheeks. He let out a high-pitched shriek.

“What the **bloody hell** are you **doing?** ” Black Cat made a movement to restrain him but the soldier kept on clawing at his eyes.

“ **I CAN’T SEE!** ”

Black Cat turned around to find a scene straight out of hell. Screams pierced his ears as he watched his fellow men turn on each other. Clothing was torn. Limbs twisted and snapped. Heads bashed against the trench wall. Others lay sprawled out on the ground. Hallucinations played out before them as they choked to death.

“ **It’s eating me! It’s eating me!** ”

“ **Help me!** ”

“Mama! **Mama!** ”

Black Cat ran towards the soldiers fighting and got in the middle of them. He held his arms out as they tried to advance.

“ **Stop it!** ” He yelled. He lifted his hand to summon a Cataclysm. The green energy began to glow…

They jumped on him. One of them grabbed his Cataclysm hand and pushed it into his chest…

Plagg smelled death when he came to. He looked around him to see bodies piled up on the floor.

“Chester?” He called out.

He soared up and began to survey the trench.

“Chester? _Chester?_ ” He frantically exclaimed.

He stopped when he saw the ring lying in a pool of blood. The shadow of an arm hung over it.

“ **Chester!** ”

The boy lay on the ground. His uniform was ripped and bloodied. A gaping hole exposed his ribcage. His eyes were closed.

“ **CHESTER!** ”  
*********************************  
Adrien placed a hand over his mouth in shock.

“Oh god Plagg I’m so sorry!”

“Moira’s general was killed a year later and it put an end to her attacks. When the war ended all the kwami made a pact to never get involved in future wars. Moira kept to herself. The last time I heard from her was in '34. And now…” Plagg shrugged.

Adrien reached out and took Plagg in his arms. He stroked the top of his head.

“So is she evil?” Adrien asked.

“I told you Adrien, Moira's a teenager, like you. Take away the scary powers and you’ll find one of the sweetest, most loyal kwami out there. She cares deeply for her users and will go to lengths to please them. And that’s just as dangerous as the whole leaving it up to fate crap. We all make mistakes; heck the only truly good kwami out there is Ladybug’s, but I don’t know if Moira has learned from them. Maybe she did; it looks like she started to redeem herself with your mom.”

Adrien looked down at the photograph once again.

“If my mom was a Miraculous user, then I guess that’s why I got the hang of it so quickly,” Adrien said. 

“Was? Still doubting?” Plagg asked.

“No, I mean I knew she used to sneak out of the house and would get bruises all the time, but I never thought she’d be Miss Purple.”

“You called her _Miss Purple?_ ” Plagg snorted.

“What? Paris never had a superhero before and she never had a name,” Adrien defended himself. “Then she disappeared not too long after my mom did.”

Adrien paused and scratched Plagg behind the ears.

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” He asked.

“You weren’t gonna take it well,” Plagg said. “Also, I didn’t wanna believe it.”

“Why?”

“I can’t believe you haven’t gotten it yet. Who else can control thoughts and feelings?”

“Hawkmoth?” Adrien’s eyes widened. “Oh my god! _Hawkmoth!_ He kidnapped her and took her Miraculous! Plagg, he has them both! We need to go after him!”

“Not so fast!” Plagg held up a paw. “You’ve seen how Hawkmoth fights. It’s not gonna be easy. We can’t do this rescue mission alone.”

“You’re right,” Adrien agreed. “But I’ve got an idea.”  
****************************************************  
She was waiting in the far end of the park just as they planned. No one noticed as he walked up to her.

“It’s nice to see you again My Lady,” Chat Noir offered his hand to her.

“We saw each other yesterday,” Ladybug said with a smile as she took it.

“To be fair My Lady, we don’t see much of each other when fighting akumas,” he said. “It’s been awhile since we’ve talked.”

They began to head out. Chat led the way but stayed by her side as they made their way down the street.

“How come you want to see me?” Ladybug asked.

“Remember when you offered me help? I’ve done some thinking and I need it. I don’t wanna trouble you—“

“You’re not troubling me Chat. Tell me what is it?” She squeezed his hand. Butterflies tumbled about his stomach but he quickly regained composure.

“I don’t want to give too much about my normal life away, but I’ll try to explain it as best as I can.”

“Ok.”

Chat Noir stopped and turned towards her. 

“What do you know about a kwami named Moira?”


	9. The Relentless Akuma Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hey guys! Sorry that this update's a bit late; this semester has been really busy and I haven't had a lot of time to write. I promise I'll try to get them up sooner!_

A flash of light flickered and faded as Ladybug and Chat Noir fell to the ground.

“Dammit! Another illusion!” Ladybug yelled. 

“Where’d she go?” Chat Noir exclaimed.

A high- pitched laugh echoed around them. The duo looked up to see another burst of orange light. It parted to reveal the akuma victim and her clones: a foxlike girl named Volpina. 

“Catch me if you can!” They shouted.

Chat Noir thrust his staff down and vaulted up to the top of the building. Ladybug swung by on her yo-yo string.

“What’d cha do to piss her off?” Chat Noir asked as they sprinted across the rooftop.

“I have no idea! She just popped up out of the blue!” Ladybug said.

“How ‘bout I give you a hint!” Came Volpina’s voice as the clones circled them.

“You don’t notice me!”

“You’re overrated!”

“You insulted me!”

“You stole my boyfriend!”

“Sorry to break it to you foxy lady but I’m more of a ladybug type of guy,” Chat Noir quipped.

“ _Chat_ ,” Ladybug rolled her eyes. 

“Or maybe I just don’t like your _face!_ ”

The clones charged. Ladybug and Chat Noir stood back to back as they fended them off. Staff and string cut through the air and the Volpinas vanished one by one. The heroes glanced about as another laugh pierced the air.  
********************************************************  
About eight hours later around half past midnight, the duo decided to call it a day. 

“Do you think she’ll need to rest too?” Ladybug slumped against Chat’s shoulder as they rested on the park bench. 

“Yeah,” he breathed as his head brushed against hers. “But don’t worry My Lady, I’ll pick up patrol first thing tomorrow.”

“But what about school?” She asked.

“I’m homeschooled. I finish early all the time,” it wouldn’t hurt to let her know a little bit about his private life. 

“Cool! I wish school could be as nice as home. Eh, probably better; if I were homeschooled I think I’d be too comfortable. I’d be hungry all the time ‘cause---ah I can’t tell you that,” she closed her eyes.

“Awww,” he playfully said.

Ladybug yawned as she got to her feet. She started to head out.

“Is four good for tomorrow?”

“Four’s _purr_ fect,” he smirked.

She stopped in her tracks. Her shoulders rolled back as she placed a hand on her hip. She glanced over her shoulder, and a mischievous look sparkled in her eye.

“Your puns _tick_ me off.”

Chat Noir covered his mouth as a snort escaped his lips. His whole face went red as he saw her struggling not to burst into a fit of giggles too.

“Catch ya later!” She anchored the yo-yo to a nearby tree and hoisted herself up. The warm feeling in his heart stirred again as he waved goodbye.  
*****************************************************************************************************************************************************  
Plagg sunk into the velvet red cushion on the couch and groaned.

“Don’t _ever_ keep me out that long _again!_ ” he tilted his head to the side as he watched Adrien open the clothes drawer.

“I’m tired too you know,” Adrien grabbed a pair of pajamas, underwear, and socks.

“Then just go to bed!” Plagg yawned. 

“I’m gonna take a shower first.”

“Why? You’re fine man, you don’t stink,” Plagg curled up into a little ball and fell fast asleep. 

“Says the guy who reeks like camembert twenty-four seven,” Adrien muttered.

He struggled to stay awake as the hot water flowed down his back. He glanced down at the marble tiles and began to count the squares.

“One. Two,” he sleepily reached for his mother’s favorite shampoo.

But the lines blurred and blended. His shampoo filled hand felt heavy as he placed it on his head and began to rub it in.

“One?” He squinted.

His eyelids drooped. His arm fell to his side as his head leaned downward. The room felt so warm, and the water felt so nice, and he was so tired…

“Adrien! Why is the shower running?”

A cold feeling washed over him. It made him jolt; surging from his heart through his veins. The faucet screeched as the water came to a halt. A hand grabbed the shower handle, a foot touched ground, and his skin prickled from the sudden temperature change. Still dripping wet, Adrien threw on his change of clothes and rushed out of the bathroom. There was a rapping at the door as his father shouted:

“It’s one am in the morning! What the hell are you doing?”

A split second decision had to be made. He scanned the room.

“Adrien!”

The bed. He threw off the cover and gripped the top of the sheets. He pulled them down, feeling the exact same tension in his arms bubble like he did when he summoned a Cataclysm.

The knob turned. His father stood in the doorway with a purple bathrobe over his pajamas. Adrien’s nails dug into the sheets as he met his stern gaze.

“Stuff happened!” Adrien made his voice sound higher than normal.

“I do not have time for this,” Gabriel flatly said. He muttered something under his breath and left the room.  
**************************************************************************************************************  
Around his mid morning break, Adrien’s cellphone rang. He glanced down to see _ <3L <3 _ on the lock screen. With a smile, he swiped it and held the phone up to his ear.

“My Lady!” Adrien exclaimed.

“Chat! I don’t have a ton of time but I think I know who the akuma victim is!” Came Ladybug’s muffled voice. “There’s a girl in my class named Lila who’s just been reported as missing.”

“Lila? What’s her last name?” He asked.

“I don’t know how to pronounce it, it’s Italian...Anyway, Lila’s new and she made up a whole bunch of stuff about knowing famous people. Everyone bought it for the first few weeks, but the truth got out. They turned on her so quick she didn’t know what hit her. So she gets into this huge fight with like half of the people in my class about La---me on Tuesday, and it got _so_ bad that I had to show up to just calm everyone down. I was like literally _holding_ people back while they were screaming the _nastiest_ things at her.”

“Aw man! You could’ve called me for backup!” Adrien said.

“Tried. You weren’t there… Ok, so her folks take her out of school and everything goes back to normal. Flash forward to now, and the police are interviewing the principal and my teacher to see if the bullying was bad enough to make her run away from home---“ 

Ladybug was drowned out by a buzzing sound. Shouts followed along with a man’s gruff voice: 

_Everyone get back to class!_

“Is that Principal Da---“ Adrien started.

“I’ll- meet- you- at- four- gotta- go!” Ladybug hung up.

His thumb lightly caressed the _L_ on her contact picture before pocketing his phone.  
****************************************************************************************************  
The girl’s parents lived in one of the most upscale apartments of the seventh district; the hub for ambassadors and diplomats. Chat Noir couldn’t help but notice how Ladybug gazed in awe at the lobby when they walked in; at the shimmering golden walls lined with mirrors, the shiny marble tiles underneath their feet, and the stone fountain in the center of the room,surrounded by flowers. She was in danger of being distracted, and his hand reached out to touch her shoulder, when she quickened her pace, and stopped by the front desk

“Excuse me?” Ladybug asked the woman behind the counter. “We’re here to see Mr. and Mrs.,” Ladybug glanced down at her bug-phone where she had typed in the name. 

“Leh—Lehge—“

“Leggièri,” Chat Noir piped up with perfect pronunciation. 

“I’ll tell them you’re here,” the attendant picked up the phone and dialed them.

“I didn’t know you know Italian,” Ladybug was surprised.

“Only how to say words right,” he told her. “My parents worked with people from Italy.”

They sat on the couch across from the parents who had set out two teacups of hot chocolate and a platter of cookies for them. Chat Noir took several cookies and a cup and offered them to Ladybug before serving himself.

“Is this her?” Ladybug passed the bug-phone over to the parents.

The father wearily nodded. The mother’s voice shook as she addressed them.

“What happened to her? Why does she look so different?”

They explained what akumas were and how the person known as Hawkmoth controlled them to do his bidding. The mother broke down in sobs, reverting back to Italian as she lamented the fate of her daughter. Chat Noir rushed over and knelt by her side. He gently took her hand, feeling her squeeze it in return. 

_Hawkmoth_ Chat Noir thought angrily. _How **dare** he? How **dare** he tear up **another** family? _

When it was time for the heroes to leave and return to the fox- hunt, Mr. and Mrs. Leggièri thanked them and wished them the best of luck. After a strong embrace and a clap on the shoulder, Chat Noir stared directly at them and said:

“We will get Lila back to you. I _promise._ ”


	10. The Relentless Akuma Part 2

Adrien didn’t watch his step as he dragged himself over to the dining room. Twice he nearly tripped on the stairs. And after that he saved himself last second from smashing his face into the wall next to the archway. With a groan, Adrien rubbed the sleep from his eyes and straightened his posture.

“You’re late,” Gabriel grumbled as his son took a seat.

Adrien did not respond. He reached for the pitcher of orange juice and filled up his glass halfway. 

“ _Adrien._ ”

“Yes?” Adrien held the glass to his lips.

“When I address you, you _answer_ me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m tired,” Adrien apologized. 

“Well I’m tired too and I manage to not let it _interfere_ with my behavior!” Gabriel snapped. He adjusted his glasses. His puffy red eyes popped out to the edge of the lens, and he nearly winced as they pushed up against the glass. He glanced back at the table. 

“Where’s my coffee?” He exasperatedly exclaimed. “When I come down I expect to have it on the table! What is taking them so long?” 

He muttered something about a “stupid girl.”

“Uh dad?” Adrien piped up.

Gabriel peered down at him with a hawk like gaze. 

“Could we reschedule the photoshoot on Monday?”

“You mean _cancel_ it?” Gabriel asked.

“No! It’s just that---“

_I’m Chat Noir and I have a duty to keep this city safe_

“One of my friends from school wants to hang out with me.”

“Friends? _What_ friends?”

“Ni-Nino,” Adrien said. 

It wasn’t a full-blown lie. The two had been keeping in touch by text and Facebook. Every time they tried to make plans to get together, something came up.

“No,” Gabriel said coldly.

“But that’s the only time I can see him!”

_If we don’t find Lila and deakumatize her, terrible things will happen!_

“I am not letting you miss this photoshoot because of a stupid _whim!_ ”

“Dad! _Please!_ At least let me out early!” Adrien begged.

“ _No._ ”

Adrien fell silent. He picked at his eggs with his fork, not bothering to eat them. One of the maids came around with the fresh pot of coffee.

“Where the _hell_ have you been? You’re ten minutes _late!_ ” Gabriel shouted.

“I’m sorry! I---“

“Give me _one_ reason not to fire you!”

“Dad. Don’t,” Adrien mumbled.

“Mr. Agreste there was a problem with—“

“Pour my damn coffee and _get out!_ ”

Her hand shook as she filled his cup. 

“He didn’t mean it Miss,” Adrien tried to assure her.

“Stay out of this,” Gabriel shot at him. 

Adrien noticed that the maid stifled a cry as she walked back to the kitchen.  
*****************************************************************************  
The cane slipped through his fingers as it spun in the air. His gloved hand caught it and held it out to his right. A whitish light sparkled in his deep blue eyes as he excitedly gazed up at the window:

“So close,” he breathed. “I am _so close._ I can practically _feel_ them in the palm of my hand!”

The cane tapped the floor as Hawkmoth’s booming voice resonated throughout the observatory.

“Volpina! The Miraculouses! _Take them now!_ ” 

The smoke parted. Chat Noir coughed, feeling his eyes sting as the smoke swept over his face. To his left, Ladybug gasped as she wiped away the soot off her suit.

He heard the laugh first before he saw the foxlike figure approach them. The akuma victim clutched her flute as her neon green eyes took the duo in.

“Lila! We don’t want to fight you!” Ladybug held out her hand.

“Li-la? Who’s that? I’m _Volpina,_ ” The girl replied.

“Lila please listen to us! We’re trying to help you!” Chat Noir exclaimed.

“I don’t _need_ any help,” Volpina cooly said as she twirled her flute about.

“Your parents are worried about you! They’ve been looking for you for the past _four_ days!” Ladybug chimed in.

“Why would they care? They don’t care about me! They care about their _money!_ ”

“That’s not true!” Chat Noir shouted. “Listen, I know how you feel; I—I know a guy whose parents are busy and away most of the time, and he sometimes thinks that they don’t love him. But even though they are apart, they show that they care whenever they’re together, and they really do care about him. Lila, no matter what happens or happened, your parents _love_ you! They would do _anything_ for you!” 

For a second, Chat Noir swore he saw her eyes tear up. But the purplish glow seeped through and her gaze hardened.

“You know _nothing_ about me,” Volpina growled. 

A flash of orange light and she was gone.

“Lila!”

The smoke in the air thickened and formed a heavy fog. Chat Noir took Ladybug by the hand as he led the way down the street. Even though he used his night vision to see where he was going, there were no street signs or buildings to mark their location. They all had been absorbed by the fog.

“Where could she---“

_Adrien_

Chat Noir stopped in his tracks. His heart began to pound as the familiar smell of rose scented shampoo and lotion reached his nose. A shadowy figure stood in the distance as the fog lifted.

_My baby_

He let go of Ladybug’s hand.

“Mama,” his voice was barely audible.

“Chat? Chat what are you doing?” Ladybug frantically asked. 

He could see her more clearly now. There she was, clad in the same purple dress she wore for that fashion show they both participated in so long ago. Her long brown hair cascaded down her back. Her warm, crisp green eyes lovingly gazed at him as she beckoned him to her.

_My sweet little Adrien_

“Mama. I missed you. I missed you so much,” Chat Noir’s voice cracked. “I’m so glad you’re _ok._ I thought Hawkmoth would never let you go!”

In an almost trance like state he took a step. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he held his arms out.

“Chat there’s nothing there!” Ladybug made a move to grab him but he kept on moving.

“You’re here! You’re _really_ here!” He exclaimed. 

_Of course I’m here child. Why wouldn’t I be?_

He stopped and beamed up at her with a toothy grin. 

“Mama. Let’s go home…We’ll be together and nothing will tear us apart anymore."

Chat Noir embraced her. He buried his head where her shoulder and neck met and closed his eyes. Chills went down his spine as she patted his back so lightly that it felt like the wind was brushing up against him.

“Give me your Miraculous little cat,” Volpina’s voice echoed.

“Chat no! Don’t listen to her!” Ladybug yelled.

“Anything for you mama,” he stepped back with a wide look in his eyes. His left thumb and pointer finger grabbed the ring on his right hand and began to slide it upwards…

Ladybug aimed her yo-yo over Chat Noir’s head. It hit the illusion right through the neck. Wavy, static like lines cut through the image of his mother. Then, it was gone.

He jumped back with a horrified glance and made a fist. The swirling black ball of energy crackled as he angrily smashed it into the ground. Cracks formed in the pavement as a cloud of dirt and rock filled the air as the energy ripped the sidewalk to shreds. Volpina’s high- pitched laugh assaulted his ears as he screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Chat!”

His hand felt drained as the last of the energy seared into the ground. He felt his body give as Ladybug caught him. Her lips moved to form the words _Miraculous Ladybug_ as the red light filled the air. The sidewalk was pieced back together, good as new. 

“What have I—what have I—“ The realization swept over him as he heard his Miraculous beep.

“Chat. It’s ok. It was just an illusion. Everything’s fixed now,” Ladybug said soothingly. 

“But I—“ he got to his feet. “Oh god I gotta go!” He exclaimed nervously as the paw print flashed on the screen.

Ladybug placed her hand on his cheek. She stared right into his eyes. 

“Chat,we’ll find your mom. I _promise._ ”

“Thank you My Lady,” he said hoarsely. 

He extended the end of his staff towards the nearest rooftop. With one movement, he flung himself up and out of sight. Her words still rung in his head:

_We’ll find your mom. I promise._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Originally the akuma arc was just going to be a two parter but the last bit of this chapter happened._   
>  _4/5/16: I drew a scene from this chapter:http://goofygoldengirl.tumblr.com/post/142311774512/drew-a-scene-from-a-fanfic-im-writing-called  _


	11. The Relentless Akuma Part 3

Orange colored fingernails dug into the left side of his face as the sharp black point hovered in front of his right eye. The panic set in and his body tensed up. He thrashed against the hand that pushed his head up right underneath the heat of the florescent lights. His eyes twitched from the sting. The point drew in nearer, the light glinting off of it, a _ping_ ringing in his ears as the point sharpened in his line of view. The tip dented into the skin underneath his eye. He swerved to his left and squeezed his eyes tight. His lips parted to cry out for help as he shielded himself from another attack.

“ _Goddammit!_ ” 

Adrien’s eyelashes fluttered against his fingertips. He felt something light and sticky run down his face. His hands were covered in it as well: a gooey, black substance with a strong, chemical like odor. 

“What have you _done?_ You’ve ruined _everything!_ ”

The stylist’s last shout got the attention of everyone else on the set. To her make her point, she threw the liquid eyeliner to the ground.

“I’m so sorry! I don’t know what came over me!” Adrien’s face had gone beet red. He got on his knees and picked the eyeliner up. He held it out to the stylist. She brushed him aside as she reached for her makeup bag and unzipped it.

“Here let me help—“

“Just get out!” 

“But I—“

“Get _out!_ ”

Adrien took a step back as the little black tube slipped from his fingers. He kept his head down as he made a dash for the door. He shut himself in the men’s room. He leaned over the sink and tried to scrub off the eyeliner the best he could.

_It’s been five days and we still can’t find Lila. What’s going to happen if we don’t deakumatize her? What if her illusions get stronger?_ He thought.

Still reeling from the panic attack, Adrien lifted his pointer finger and lightly tapped the mirror.

_This isn’t an illusion right?_  
The mirror didn’t shatter, evaporate into thin air, or transform into a monstrous creature. Adrien sighed with relief. He had one less nightmare to dwell on for the moment. He turned off the water.

_Thank god dad wasn’t here to see that, I don’t know what I would have done if he started screaming at me instead of the stylist_ Went through his head as he pushed the door open.

His father was supposed to attend the photoshoot but didn’t show. His secretary said something came up and he had to leave the office early. Adrien saw him leave the building just as he arrived.  
***********************************  
Chat Noir’s ears perked up as he sensed the stampede of students coming his way. He thrust his staff down on the ground and flung himself upwards. Screams bounced off the walls of the hallway as they stormed through. Some clung tightly to their friends’ hands or shoulders. Others pushed their way through, not caring if their fellow peers were left helpless on the floor at the mercy of whatever was pursuing them.

He landed and caught the staff with this right hand. He ran into the courtyard.

Volpina hovered in the air. Bright orange flames shot out from her fingertips as she fired them at the fleeing students below.

“Everyone get back!” Ladybug yelled as she battled the flames away with her yo-yo. Chat Noir jumped in and blocked away an overhead strike. It scorched the side of his staff.

“You really think **you** can **stop** me?” Volpina spat. She clenched her fist. Smoke rose from the cracks between her fingers.

Ladybug anchored the end of her yo-yo on top of one of the basketball hoops and motioned to Chat to grab on. They soared up just as one of Volpina’s fireballs exploded. A blinding light flashed before Chat’s eyes as his hands began to slip from Ladybug’s waist. They crashed into the board and slid down on the basketball rim. They teetered on the edge. Ladybug let out a shriek as the basketball hoop began to sink. 

Yo-yo out, the staff at the ready, the two superheroes made a jump for it. 

“Yes!” Volpina screamed.

“Yes!” Hawkmoth repeated as his shaking hands reached out into the light that streamed in from the window. “Yes! Do it now! **Take their Miraculouses!** ”

Ladybug threw up her yo-yo as they neared the ground.

“Lucky Charm!”

Red and pink lights swirled around her head as the yo-yo fell back in to her hands.

“What—“ Ladybug was confused. Then she turned to see the energy flit around Chat’s ears. “Chat! There—“

He suddenly came very still. He lifted his head up as the energy coursed through. Searing at his temples, spinning at the back of his head, the images came to him. Then, a moment of clarity.

“I know what I need to do," he said.

“What?” Ladybug was surprised.

“Trust me on this!"

He gracefully landed on his feet. He faced Volpina and began to walk to her.

“Little Cat you’re about to lose a life!” She exclaimed manically.

"I'm not scared of you Lila."

He stopped right in front of her. His emerald green eyes met her diluted olive ones as he stared her down. 

“I never was," his voice lightened up.

He pulled her into an embrace. A flicker of light and the flames and smoke disappeared. The cracks in the wall and floor were pushed back together. The lopsided basketball hoop towered over the courtyard.

“You really didn’t want to hurt them, did you?” He asked.

Volpina froze in her spot as Chat Noir gently stepped back and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Of course I did!” Volpina angrily responded.

“Lila, look around you. Everything about this courtyard is exactly the way it was when you got here,” Chat Noir gestured around him. “Why?”

“Because you fixed it!”

“We didn’t do anything. It was _you_ ,” Chat Noir said. “Lila, how long have you been putting up illusions? Because even before you were lying to the other kids you were lying to yourself weren’t you?”

Volpina glanced away as her eyes watered up. A hoarse sound hummed in her throat as she drew her bottom lip in to force it back down.

“You act like you’re cool and tough but you’re really _desperate_ ” Chat Noir bluntly told her. “You’re scared of being rejected and alone because that’s happened to you more times than you can count. So in order to keep whatever friends you can make before your parents decide to hop on over to another country, you _lie._ You paint this glamorous picture of the so -called life you have; parties, meeting famous people, having the most expensive clothes and toys, money just flowing out of your pocket, but you know the truth. It’s not _fun_ being the daughter of diplomats. If anything, you _hate_ it. Because deep down, you know you don’t want confuse your brain even more when dad says it’s time to drop those English lessons ‘cause we’re going to France, or those ten thousand euro pair of Jimmy Choos, the latest iphone, or being shuffled about from one nanny to the next as mom and dad work long hours at some boring conference or other. You want _love._ ”

The last barrier Volpina put up was shattered. The girl sunk to the ground as she wailed. Chat Noir motioned to Ladybug to join him. They crouched down next to her.

“I used to be like you. I was lonely, scared, and angry. People picked on me too and I didn’t take it well. I-I did things I regret. Believe me when I tell you that it’s not good to stoop down to their level because it doesn’t make you feel good. It only makes you feel _worse_ ,” Chat Noir admitted.

Volpina blubbered out something as she rocked back and forth. Ladybug took her hand and helped her sit upright.

“You still have a chance,” Ladybug added once she noticed that Chat paused. “You can _change._ ”

“People wanna see the **real** you Lila. I’m not gonna promise you that it’ll be easy to regain their trust but if you work little by little it will happen,” Chat Noir said. “And let me tell you something, I’d be your friend.”

“Really?” Volpina asked between sobs.

“Yeah,” Chat replied. “Ladybug too right?”

“Of course,” Ladybug smiled at her. “Friends help each other don’t they?”

She hugged Volpina. She gingerly undid the necklace and pulled back. Chat put an arm around Volpina as Ladybug went through the process of cleansing the akuma. The purified butterfly emerged and flew up and away.

Lila reverted back to normal: A girl of medium height around his age. Her black romper suit was covered in dust and the sleeves of her bright red jacket were torn. Her long brown hair was falling out of her pigtails and sweat shined off of her face as she fearfully glanced about.

“Where am I? What happened?” She frantically asked as Ladybug handed her necklace back.

A cry broke the silence of the observatory. The butterflies scattered as the man hurled the cane at the wall. It pierced through, and left a golf ball sized hole.

“Damn you!” Hawkmoth screamed. “Next time I promise there will be no **walls** between us! I **will** get those Miraculouses even if I have to **pry** them from your cold **hands!** ”

Students and faculty crowded around the hall entrance to the courtyard. Ladybug and Principal Damocles stood a few feet away from Chat Noir and Lila and Ladybug informed him about “the bullying problem in this school” before the beeps from her Miraculous signaled her to take off. The police entered from the opposite side. Lila unsteadily got to her feet and for the first time in a week, she genuinely smiled as she caught sight of two people among the responders.

_”Mamma! Papà!”_ Lila burst into a run. She fell into in the arms of her overjoyed parents. The three of them sobbed as they huddled close together.

Chat Noir beamed as he looked on. As he held his hand close to his heart, he too struggled to hold back tears.


	12. The Drowning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Heads up! This chapter contains some mature content.**

_Marie was like spring._

_She was the crispness in the air as the sun’s warmth broke the frost. The tiny green buds that popped out against the lifeless branches. The welcome sight of a clear blue sky after months of clouds and gray. She was the first daffodil that shot up from the earth and all the flowers that bloomed after. A doe and her fawn resting in a grassy meadow under the shade of a dogwood tree, caressed by golden sunlight as the tree’s wispy white blossoms fell around them._

_Moira had not felt an aura that strong in centuries. From the moment she locked eyes on the young woman strolling through the **Jardin Des Plantes** with her husband and son that April morning, she knew that she was the one. _

_Later that day she revealed herself to Marie. The jewelry box where she kept that lovely silver necklace with the butterfly pendant was the perfect place to be discovered. And as she stared into Marie’s eyes for the first time, Moira felt an inkling of hope stir inside her chest._

_“Why me?” Marie asked with a dumbfounded look. She twiddled the pendant of her butterfly necklace side to side as she took in the kwami’s words._

_Marie had been blessed with an incredible fortune in her life. At fifteen she started her career as a model; by eighteen she had risen to prominence in the fashion world. She dominated the runways of the late 90s with her willowy figure, voluminous chestnut brown locks, a youthful sparkle in her green eyes, and an enchanting smile that stood out against the sea of uniform, stoic models that paraded lifelessly around her. She had also struck gold in love. The second man she would ever enter a relationship with would be the one she’d marry. They had been together since she was eighteen, married since she was twenty-one. They were the proud parents of a four year old son who was as beautiful as his mother._

_Marie was only twenty-six and had the world in the palm of her hand. Yet Moira sensed a longing for something more in life than what fame and money could give her. Moira felt like she was looking at a reflection of herself if she could take on a human form. They had both dove into life not knowing what would await them in the murky waters below. Even if they floated safely on the surface, they were both drowning on the inside._

_“Because I can see great things in you,” Moira gazed at Marie with a wide- eyed look as she fluttered closer to Marie._

_“And--- I love your necklace,” Moira added with a cheeky expression as she nudged Marie’s shoulder with her elbow._

_Marie giggled. Her eyes were full of wonder as she held her hand out and cupped it to let the kwami land._  
***********************************************************************************************************  
_The superhero gained speed before she jumping into the air. As she extended her arms out, two wings emerged made of sheer black fabric shot out from the butterfly design printed on her back shoulder blades. She glided after the criminals and descended. With a kick, she knocked the first one to the ground. The second swung at her and she ducked. She slid across the pavement and bounced back up. Standing tall and poised, she spun in place before leaping out at them. Her movements were light and swift as she cornered them against the wall. A staticky violet light frizzled against her fingertips._

_**”Purify!”** She shouted at the top of her lungs._

_Two butterflies emerged from the light. Her hands outstretched, she shot them at the criminals. They collapsed with a groan. The outline of the butterfly hovered over their eyes as they fell into a deep slumber._

_With her outdated 2001 cellphone in hand, the hero punched in the number **17** and waited._

_“Police. Please state your emergency.”_

_“Fourth district, Fisher street, the criminals who escaped from Fleury-Mérogis are here,” She said in a low husky voice that made her throat tighten._

_Within five minutes the police surrounded the two criminals who were stirring from their sleep. The energy butterflies, now white, took off into the night sky. The police handcuffed the criminals and dragged them away._

_From afar, Marie and Moira watched._

_“We did it!” They exclaimed._

_Marie held her palm out to her right. Moira tapped her hand against Marie’s hand and then flew up to her shoulder. She sat down and leaned her head against Marie’s neck. The back of Marie’s ponytail brushed against her wings._  
***************************************************************  
_Four light footsteps scurried first across the floor to the rhythm of a bell’s high- pitched jingle. Two heavier ones fumbled after as they reached the den, followed by a pant and a giggle as it approached the couch. Four legs brushed against the base of the couch and nuzzled its soft black head against Marie’s leg. A mellow laugh that reminded her of sunlight rang in Moira’s ears as the boy knelt in front of his mother. Marie’s heartbeat swayed the walls of the butterfly charm back and forth like a ship on calm waters. Moira peered through the tiny hole and smiled._

_“We did it Your Highness! Me and Fifi did it! We saved the kingdom!” The boy exclaimed._

_“My brave heroes! For this deed you will be knighted!” The mother’s palm caressed the top of his messy golden blonde hair._

_“Hooray!” The boy cheered. Moira sensed movement and a meow as tiny arms wrapped around the cat. A chuckle came, then a glint in Marie’s eye as the boy handed her the toy sword._

_“You, Masked Man—“ She began as she tapped the blade against the boy’s shoulder._

_“Adrien! How many times have I told you **not** to run in the house?” _

_Moira felt the warmth dissolve as an icy gale unexpectedly blew from the archway where the man stood. She clung against the walls as the necklace rocked and tipped. His frustration sent the waves soaring higher and higher as the rant towered over the three of them._

_**I’m working really hard. This show in is a month. I need peace and quiet. Why can’t you understand this Adrien?** _

_A combination of caffeine, a need for absolute perfection in every aspect of his life, displeasure with his son’s immature behavior, and the stress from designing and being judged for his creations bubbled in his blood. The temper he had spent a lifetime trying to control was threatening to rear its ugly head. Moira quickly pressed her hand against the surface and sent a calming burst of energy his way._

_**He’s seven he should know better.. I’m sorry I’m sorry… Gabriel calm down please** _

_But he stormed off before the energy could reach him. It lingered in the air as Gabriel’s emotions shifted. He focused on the task at hand as the shame at his outburst threatened to overwhelm him again. Something dishonest also crossed his mind; something that he was anticipating later that bought him pleasure._  
*****************************************************************************************************************************************************  
_Moira sat with her back turned against the sunlight on the patio table. Her tiny cheeks dimpled as she nibbled on the grape. She made a **mmm** sound and smacked her lips._

_Marie giggled and titled her head over to the side as she gazed over at Moira. Her fingers tapped against the side of the fruit bowl as they inched up towards the rim. She reached down and picked up a grape. She popped it into her mouth._

_“It’s so nice out,” Moira sighed._

_“Yeah,” Marie agreed. “I think we deserve this after a long night’s work.”_

_“Definitely. Hey I’ve got an idea. How about we take a vacation?” Moira piped up._

_“Where’d we go?” Marie asked._

_“How about somewhere you’ve never been…I know! Tibet!”_

_“What’s in Tibet?”_

_“The Kwami Caves! It’s where all the Miraculouses were forged. It’s a bit of a hike up the Himalayas, but it’s worth it.”_

_“I think I can handle it. I mean will it **really** tire me out more than chasing bad guys for hours nonstop across Paris? Climbing up the Eiffel Tower? If anything it sounds more like a training exercise,” Marie winked. _

_Moira laughed along with Marie. With a snort, she flew over to her and playfully nuzzled against her cheek. Marie closed her eyes and titled her head to the side. Her heartbeat resonated at a gentle pace._  
**************************************  
_**Stay out of this** Marie stubbornly insisted as she picked up the black shoebox from the dresser and headed out the room. Moira followed her. She shrunk down and flew back into the necklace. It glowed a bright purple as she settled in. _

_The waves of anger, sadness, guilt, and betrayal hurled Moira about across the deck of the necklace. With a gasp, she dug into the floor, and focused on the energy within. She felt herself sink as she conjured a spark of purple light and pushed it to the walls of the necklace. It bounced back and knocked her off her feet._

_Gabriel’s anger boomed like thunder. Marie’s despair howled like a tempest wind. And then the shadow loomed over Moira. Gravity shifted as Moira was slammed into the wall._

_Her head spun. A scream rang in her head along with a shattering sound as the necklace hit the floor. A smoky black energy filled the space. It circled around her, sending out electric zaps as she tried to resist its pull. One struck her right in the chest. She began to sink._

**Marie. Run…**

_Everything went back to black._

_A grief stricken cry brought Moira back to consciousness. Her chest tightened as it dawned upon her that only one heart was beating in the room. The smell of blood made her weak in the head and everything was dark again. The next few hours came to her in flashes after that: a panicked sobbing as fingers flipped through euro bills and bound them together. A lump of fear in the man’s throat that remained stuck in his throat when he staggered out the front door. The vroom of an unfamiliar car as it sped down the highway. His warm hand pressed against the cheek of a woman who wasn’t his wife. The crack in his voice as he plead:_

**Stay with me**

_Then he was drowning. He let himself sink into the depths, clinging to the affirmation that there was something still human inside him. The waves tumbled him about. His breaths came out in gasps. The currents pushed through him until he died a little. The pressure swept him to shore as the life tided out of him like a tsunami crashing onto land._  
***********************************  
_She decided to pop out of the necklace just to spite him. She hovered over him as he sat at his desk. The energy sizzled across her skin as she sucked in some air. She bared her teeth and glared._

_His eyes narrowed as he lifted his head. A blackish haze obscured the lens of his glasses; just like the one that always floated over her eyes._

_“I hate you,” Moira rasped._

_Gabriel clenched his fist. A tinge of purple colored his cheeks. He opened his mouth when she cut him off:_

_“There is one person who will ever hate you more than yourself, and that is **me.** ” _

_It gave her a sick sense of pleasure to haunt him. It made their convenient little arrangement to tolerate each other and keep quiet about the death a bit more bearable. What a pity. Their energy sync was **perfect.** She could see it in his eyes as he withstood each insult she shot at him. Any other mortal exposed to the negative energy would have already been driven to insanity or suicide. But Gabriel was stronger than they were; her energy even empowered him. Even through her hatred, she recognized his sheer willpower. _  
*********************************************  
_Moira was starving. Everything tasted like ashes, even her beloved grapes. Food that she managed to get down ultimately came back up. The energy drained out of her. She spent her days coiled up and shivering in the necklace, somewhere between life and death._

_Gabriel could have used the opportunity to let her rot and free himself of her torment. Yet he brought a portion of food from each meal he ate and offered it to her. In another life it would have touched her, but she had reached a point where she just didn’t care. Her agony lasted for two months until she came across **it** in a darkened hallway. _

_It cut through the lethargic atmosphere of the early morning photoshoot. Two unusually quickened heartbeats caught her attention. As she and Gabriel moved in closer, she felt the prickling flush on their skin, a slimy sensation of mucus dripping from a nose, and a surge of mortal energy that rivaled even a kwami’s._

**Try me**

_“I want that,” Moira’s mouth began to water._

_“That won’t be a problem,” he said._

_One blackmail later, Moira felt the power speeding through her. The black energy radiated from her skin as she laughed._

_“I owe you. Go ahead, take some,” she was feeling generous._

_His thin pink lips curled up into a smile. The black energy swirled against the lens of his glasses. His heartbeat raced. Their energies matched._  
************************************************************************************************************************************************  
**She was drowning**

_Moira showed him how to channel the energy into the akuma. A flash of purple light and the akuma turned black. It flew off towards the victim: a rival designer from the UK who threatened his popularity. The akuma infected the man, and the purple electric lines masked over his eyes._

_“Hello Monsieur Taylor. I am Hawkmoth,” his voice was deeper and sinister. “I can help you gain all the attention for Fashion Week, but first, you must do something for me. I want you to go backstage, take a pair of scissors, and rip all of your creations to shreds. Can you do that for me?”_

_“Absolutely,” the designer had lost his will to refuse. He did the deed, and when he woke to find that his work had been sabotaged, Moira and Hawkmoth manically shrieked with glee as they saw him fall apart._

**The black water filled her lungs**

_They craved power. The energy from the puppets they controlled and the enhancer they shared made them feel invincible. The fashion world was small compared to the size of the globe, and they began to set their sights on the city of Paris as a start._

**She couldn’t swim against the current**

_He was adamant at first about not killing anyone. His guilt and grief over Marie had a hold over him those early years. But as the energy seeped in, he slipped. They both came to agree that if they were to get anywhere, lives had to be taken. The chains binding him to his moral code were broken._

**She was drowning**

_“There are two Miraculouses that give the wielder ultimate power. With them in your possession the world will fall at your feet. But they are only given to the most noble of heroes and only are brought out in times of need,” she crooned._

_“Then why don’t we bring these heroes out into the open and take The Miraculouses from them? Why not we cause a little chaos?” He proposed._

**She drowned**

_The boy was a perfect victim. Angered by the crude drawing and the accusation that he harbored feelings towards a fellow classmate, they watched as he stormed down the hall to the principal’s office._

_“Teenagers are such emotional beings. Upset them and they’ll explode like fireworks. He’ll be our first sacrifice in our quest for glory. Let’s see if our so called heroes will show,” Hawkmoth chuckled._

_With a shout he ordered his akuma to take flight. When the akuma made contact with the crumpled up sheet of paper, Hawkmoth cackled, feeling the energy coarse through him._

**They were no longer human. They were heartless and soulless creatures.**

“Moira. What are you thinking about?”

She turned away from the observatory window and grinned.

“I realized who Chat Noir might be.”

“Did you?” His voice dripped with excitement.

“The Lucky Charm during the battle with Volpina; it heightened his energy. I could read it clearly for the first time.”

Moira closed her eyes as the memory came back to her. Warmth. Sunshine. Spring. It filled her with yearning for the one part of her life that she had lost forever.

“It is exactly like his mother’s.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys sorry that this chapter is also a bit late! I'm in the final semester stretch and so many things have been going on this past month.
> 
> Shoutout to href=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vCdQuZzjtFYA Drowning by How To Destroy Angels for being my writing soundtrack for this chapter!


	13. The Search

_Click- clack. Click-clack._

Laughter drifted from the stairs as Nathalie rounded the corner and continued down the hall. Heavy footsteps picked up their pace as the two boys reached the front door. Their voices bubbled with excitement.

“Aw man that’s awesome!”

“Dude wait til I tell you about the speakers!”

Their voices grew more distant. She moved into the quiet of the final stretch of the hall. Her thoughts broke the silence.

_I shouldn’t be doing this_

She slowed and stopped. The bleach white door impeded her way. Its gold knob glinted under the hallway light, begging to be opened.

_“Nathalie I need you to go through my son’s room,” he said as his long fingers reached for the tissue box on the desk. One of his eyes twitched against the lens as he fumbled about for a tissue._

_“Do you need me to leave some things there?” She was confused._

_“No. Search his room. Look for anything suspicious,” he sniffed as he brought the tissue to his nose. A small red blot dotted the back of the tissue._

Nathalie’s hand clasped over the knob. The door opened with a creak. 

The boy’s room was its own world. It spanned about the length of the main hall and was twice as high. On the far end, the sunlight hit the space where the skate ramp, rock wall, and basketball court met. It cast over the upper floor, illuminating the titles of the books that lined the wall. The light reached her and the arcade machines that made a faint humming sound as the coins jostled inside. She felt overwhelmed. The room was _too_ massive. It threatened to shut her in just as it did with its owner. Gabriel knew what he was doing when he decided that Adrien’s room needed a makeover right after Marie disappeared. It appeared that he meant well; the boy was so upset, but Nathalie knew the truth. Adrien needed a distraction so he wouldn’t ask questions, and with Marie gone, Gabriel could finally do something about those childish baby blue walls and furniture leftover from his son’s infancy.

_“You can have whatever you want. It will be your dream room,” she remembered Gabriel telling him._

Nathalie closed the door behind her. She crossed over to the computer and sat down. She moved the mouse and a picture of Adrien’s mother popped up on the screen. Nathalie’s fingers tightened over the mouse as the cursor shot over to the three files on the left hand side. She rapidly clicked on the first file she saw.

**School**

The documents were useless for her search. An essay on symbolism in _Le Petit Prince._ A powerpoint about the elements for chemistry. A five page long reference guide to Chinese characters. A history worksheet about Napoleon that had been downloaded from the teacher’s website.

She exited out. Avoiding Marie’s lifeless gaze, Nathalie hovered down to the next file. 

**L**

_Ugh._

All of them were of Ladybug, labeled with heart eye emojis, the ^ ^ and :3 icon, and captions that made her skin crawl with second hand embarrassment.  
_So adorbs My hero! Buginette, Princess <3 Ladybae! My heart goes doki-doki_

“Well it isn’t as bad as _angelface_ and _pasta curls_ ,” Nathalie chuckled as she scanned the photos, remembering the horrible nicknames she used to affectionately give Leonardo Dicaprio and Justin Timberlake back in her teen years. 

She recognized most of them from the news reports and articles that came out like clockwork after an akuma attack. But some of them she had never seen. A photo of her sitting on one of the beams of the Eiffel Tower, a tinge of red in her hair as the sun set behind her. Standing in front of a gelato parlor as she laughed into her vanilla ice cream cone. And one that stood out from the rest: a selfie of her and Chat Noir, smiling up at the camera on his baton. 

“Probably got them off of that Ladyblog,” Nathalie figured as she clicked on the final file **Photos**

Two sets of green eyes stared back at her. Their smiles contorted into sneers. Pearly white teeth sharpened. The color drained from Nathalie’s face as her left hand moved to cover the screen. The heat from the computer vibrated against her palm as she imagined them bursting into laugher like they used to back in Gabriel’s office. A little boy’s voice rang in her ears.

_You never thought you’d see this picture again did you little miss heartbreaker?_

The cursor clicked down on the little red x in the corner. Nathalie pushed back from the computer and squeezed her eyes shut.

_I can’t do this to Adrien. I can’t hurt him again. If he ever knew what I’ve done..._

She shakily inhaled as she rolled her shoulders back. She opened her eyes.

“He’s a good kid. Gabriel’s crazy for thinking he’s not. What has gotten into his head?” She said out loud.

She forced herself to look back into their eyes. She reached out and a finger tapped against the side of the photo. Her expression softened as she glanced at Adrien. Her finger pressed on the screen just over his head, as if she were stroking it.  
***************************************************************************  
Nathalie quickly walked out the front door. Although it had already gotten dark, she left the door unlocked. Adrien was still out with his friends and would be coming home late.

Gabriel had arrived an hour ago. He wasn’t pleased when she informed him that Adrien had nothing to hide. It was if he had expected Nathalie to dig up some dirt about something that would bring shame to the Agreste family.

_“The closest thing I could find is his crush on Ladybug and that’s not even a secret!” She sighed, bracing herself for another one of his objections._

_Gabriel became quiet. He gazed pensively at her before his chapped lips parted._

_“Sorry I’m just exhausted,” he said._

_She studied him as her hand cupped his gaunt cheek. Despite the amount of makeup he had carefully applied, she could make out the heavy bags that sagged under his eyes. His cheeks felt unusually warm and his skin was pale. Even though they saw each other almost every day, it was now that she realized that Gabriel had lost weight as his bony hands snaked around her waist. As he pulled her in, Nathalie hoped that the desire that churned and rushed through her could make her worries about him go away. But they lingered in the back of her mind._

The gate squeaked as she pushed it open. One foot ahead and she stepped onto the sidewalk.

_Click-clack. Click-clack._

Her car was parked at the end of the street. Dim streetlamps dotted her path and the old birch tree in front of the house marked her starting point. She passed the tree. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that the trunk looked thicker than normal, and had grown an extra branch with five tiny sticks pointing out at the end.

Nathalie froze. She turned and took a step back. She gripped her keys as two neon green circles glowed in the dark.

“Who’s there?” She shouted.

The figure slid out from behind the tree and into the light. The golden bell on his chest jingled against his black bodysuit. The belt-like tail floated behind him. His gloved hand reached up to smooth back his messy blonde hair.

“Chat Noir?” 

“That’s right! The one and only Chat Noir!” The teenaged superhero bowed. “Sorry if I scared you. Sometimes I have to channel my inner cat as I roam about this city. Never know when the enemy’s gonna strike you know!”

“Oh,” Nathalie wasn’t sure what to make of this. “I better be on my way.”

“Alright then! Stay safe!” He waved with a smile.

_Click-Clack_

Chat Noir he kept a watchful eye on the street. He crossed his arms and propped his foot back against the tree. His eyes narrowed as he concentrated on every detail that caught his eye. Nathalie glanced back at him as his gaze turned towards the Agreste mansion. Her pace slowed. She stopped.

“Wait!”

He ran up to her.

“This sounds crazy, but could you help me? It’s my boss. There’s something wrong with him and I don’t know what it is. It’s scaring me.”

Chat Noir gently placed a hand on her shoulder. For a second, Nathalie believed she saw her own worries reflected in the stranger’s eyes as he took in the pained expression on her face. 

“Of course. Miss—“

“Sancoeur,” she said.

“Tell me everything I need to know.”  
***************************************  
Adrien eased himself into the chair and scooted in close to the desk. Plagg was curled up into a little ball by the mouse, already half asleep.

“You gotta take it easy kid. Tomorrow’s another day,” he yawned.

“Eh I’m not tired,” Adrien said. He lifted his arms and stretched. He flexed his fingers over the mouse.

“I think it’s better if we—hey is that chocolate?” Plagg perked up as he saw the light purple _Milka_ bar on the other side of the desk.

“Sweet!” Adrien exclaimed as he picked it up. He unwrapped it and broke off a bit for Plagg. He took a bite and grinned.

“Where’d it come from?” He wondered. 

“Who cares man, it’s free food!” Plagg licked the chocolate off his paws and smacked his lips.

Adrien turned back to the computer. He clicked on _L_ and scrolled through the pictures until he reached the one of him and Ladybug. Instead of a picture, a word document popped up on the screen. A bullet point list took up the page. It was titled:

_Hawkmoth Moira Info_


	14. The Nightstand

His stoic gaze lightened up as he examined himself in the mirror. His thin lips curled into a smile as his fingers caressed the faint creases by his eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair, bunching up at the strands of gray that grew at the sides.

“If it weren’t for these grays I wouldn’t look a day older than twenty-five,” he remarked.

The haze in the mirror was pallid. The wrinkles on his forehead, and cheeks cut into his skin. Bits of dead skin clung to his lips. His bluish- violet eyes watered. 

“You’re avoiding the subject,” came Moira’s nasally, high- pitched voice from the nightstand. She leaned against the rim of his glasses and frowned.  


Gabriel’s hands slid down his neck to the top button on his shirt. He began to undo them. Normally quick, his fingers fumbled about as they poked through the buttonholes. His shirt loosely rested on his thin frame. The outline of his ribs popped out against the surface of his skin. A few wispy hairs stuck out on his chest where a thick patch of blonde hair once grew. The shirt fell to the floor.

“I’m in good shape for my age. Don’t you think?” 

“We were talking about _Adrien_ ” Moira coolly said. 

“Ah yes. If I still look this good at fifty, imagine what Adrien will look like when he’s my age. He’ll be like a god!” Gabriel chuckled as he unfastened his belt. His trousers sagged on his hips. The fabric bunched up by his knees and ankles. 

Moira’s purple eyes filled with black smoke. Her wings buzzed as she rose up into the air. In one fluid movement, she picked up his glasses by the handle and threw them to the floor. Gabriel looked back at her and sighed.

“I liked that pair.”

“You’re not _listening_ to me,” She spat.

“I am,” he resumed undressing. 

“The Miraculous is _right_ under this roof! We could take it!”

Gabriel didn’t respond. His stern expression reappeared as he pulled his pants down and shrugged them off. He stopped and looked again at his reflection. He ignored the black and blue marks that covered his thighs, his red knobby knees and ankles that stuck out against his pale skin. He glanced again at the thinning blonde hair on his head. 

“Our best shot is when Adrien’s sleeping. You won’t need to worry about his kwami waking up to stop us; he’s such a lazy—“

“Adrien isn’t Chat Noir,” Gabriel said to the mirror.

_Crash_

The nightstand toppled over. It fell directly on the shattered remains of Gabriel’s glasses and crushed them to bits. Moira hovered over the wreckage. Her pupils vibrated. Black smoke overflowed out of her eyes. Her body twitched. Her mouth stretched open.

“ **He IS!** ”

Goosebumps prickled on his skin. His ears throbbed as her screams drilled into his skull. His hands gripped the band of his briefs as his legs shakily moved apart. His arms jutted in closer to his body. 

“ **IT’S ALL THERE YOU COWARD! I’VE BEEN TELLING YOU FOR WEEKS AND WEEKS BUT YOU HAVEN’T DONE SHIT! IF WE HAD GOTTEN THE MIRACULOUS WE COULDA BEEN CONTROLLING PARIS BY NOW! ”**

The last of his clothing fell to the floor. His body tensed up and he froze. Tears welled in his eyes. His hand reached out and touched the cool glass in front of him. He placed his forehead on it. 

“He’s my son,” he whispered. 

His breath fogged up the glass. He pulled back and straightened himself. His front teeth sunk down on his lower lip as he turned and headed to the bathroom. 

**“DON’T WALK AWAY FROM ME GABRIEL! YOU KNOW I’M RIGHT!"**

Moira’s shouts bounced back at her as the door slammed. His toes clenched up as he stepped on the marble floor. He felt cold.  
**********************************************************************************************************************************  
It was a beautiful day to go out to the park. It was an unusually warm day for May, and the park was crowded. Joggers and cyclists raced past Nathalie as she briskly made her way down the path. Mothers moved at an aggravatingly slow pace as they pointed out the greens in the trees, the pinks and reds of the flowers, and the ducks waddling about to their unaware babies. Groups of people wearing sunglasses gathered on park benches to feel the sun shine down on them. The lucky children who had finished school before four ran about the playground. But Nathalie did not have the time to take the scenery in. The events of the past hour played in her head as she nervously clung to her purse. She almost burst into a run as she saw Chat Noir waiting for her by the oak tree where they always met. 

“Miss Sancoeur! What’s wrong?” He asked as he noticed the worried look on her face. 

“I found something,” her voice shook. 

“What did you find? Where did you find it? Not that I’m suggesting that I’d sneak into somebody’s house or office but a good detective needs details!” 

“I was cleaning out his desk---“ 

Chat Noir, no matter how mature he seemed for his fifteen or sixteen years, could _not_ know that Nathalie was involved with her boss in a manner that was _completely_ unprofessional. The truth was that she had snuck up into his room to drop off a little “present” for him to find later when he arrived. Everything was going smoothly until she opened the nightstand drawer. 

“I’ve never seen drugs in my life, but when I picked up that bag I just _knew_ ” 

Nathalie gazed down at the ground and took in a deep breath. Her hands clenched over her knees as the hum in her throat threatened to move its way upward. Chat Noir placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

“I put it back in the drawer. I-I even left it the way I found it, it was like lying against this brooch---“ 

Chat Noir’s ears perked up. His eyes widened. His fingers dug into her jacket and his claws descended as he gripped her shoulder in a tight squeeze. He jumped back once he noticed that the fabric was about to tear. 

“I’m so _scared_ for him. He’s been through so much but he shouldn’t be _hurting_ himself like this I mean he has a _kid_ he should be taking care of and---“ 

Nathalie hunched over as a sob escaped her lips. She buried her face in her hands as her calm façade came crashing down. She felt numb on the outside: Chat Noir’s arm felt like cool air on her back. The thick tears streaming down her cheek only registered as a warm dampness. Her cries came out as a whimper. Inside, her fears rattled about as they cascaded over her. One thought told her to let it all out, and that her feelings had been trapped in for too long. Another screamed that she was overreacting and should be embarrassed by her behavior. And a third tried to give a reason for what else could have affected her but was drowned out by the other two thoughts’ bickering. 

“What should I do? We can’t go to the police---“ 

“We’ll come up with something,” Chat Noir assured her. 

Nathalie was still in a daze when she finally left the park. She shivered as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. Her pace dragged. A cramp shot up her leg as she turned onto the sidewalk. She was too drained from crying to notice.  
***************************************************************  
“Dude I’m being serious this time! We need to check this _ASAP!_ ” 

Adrien didn’t respond. He cut past Plagg and sped up. The kwami caught up with him. 

“Look I _get_ it. After everything you went through after your mom disappeared, and your dad and Nathalie having a thing, you --“ 

“We don’t have proof!” Adrien interrupted. 

“Nathalie _gave_ us proof! We just need to go and check!” 

“She could be _wrong!_ Maybe it’s not---” Adrien objected. 

“Why are you being so _stubborn?_ ” Plagg threw up his paws in the air. 

“Because it’s _not_ true!” Adrien shouted back. 

“Wake up and smell the mold!” Plagg sputtered as the smell of hot Camembert hit Adrien’s nostrils. “There is something **wrong** with your dad! We could **help** him and—“ 

“My dad **doesn’t** do **drugs!** He **wouldn’t!** He can’t be **that** stupid to not know how bad they are for you!” Adrien half screamed half gagged as his face turned beet red. 

“Newsflash kid **smart** people do drugs too and they **know** what they’re doing is **ruining** them! If we’re looking at a best- case scenario, he’s not **taking** them and—“ 

“SHUT UP HE’S NOT HAWKMOTH” 

Plagg became quiet. Adrien sucked in some air as the color began to fade from his cheeks. He made a fist and grimaced. 

“That was my mom's brooch. It was the last thing he gave her before she disappeared. He probably keeps it to remember that he still loves her even though he cheated. It’s **not** a **Miraculous!** " 

Adrien’s hand loosened. With a shaky breath, he looked out at the outline of the Agreste mansion in the distance. 

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. Let’s go home," he said in a low voice. 

Plagg sadly gazed at Adrien. His whiskers drooped. A look of worry flashed in his eyes as the boy turned and started down the street again. He followed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone I can probably guess what you're thinking:  
>  _We just got a bump up to an M for Mature rating what does this mean?!_  
>  Writing Soulless really surprised me: I knew it was going to be darker than Heartless but figured it wouldn't be by much. At most, it would be heavier than T for Teen but not enough for M. Boy did the plot take me off guard; about half of stuff I have written/will write about I did not have in mind when I first started. I was on the fence about bumping the rating up, but knew that a lot of the themes do not sit well with a T rating. Content/description wise, expect things to stay pretty much the same with the occasional exception. Don't worry: you're not gonna get sex scenes/ super bloody gore/ or F-bombs dropped every other line (although I'm saving that F-bomb for when the time comes...)
> 
> So with that said---ALL ABOARD THE ANGST TRAIN!!!!


	15. The Calendar

Chat Noir tapped the end of the purple sharpie against the table as he brought it up. He lifted his head and held the sharpie head side up. He swung his arm back and opened his palm.

“Here you go My Lady!” He tossed it to Ladybug.

The sharpie did a turn in the air. Ladybug flicked her hand out and caught the sharpie. She took off the cap and spun around. The sharpie squeaked as Ladybug doodled a small butterfly on the May 5th space.

“Spring Fever. The park on Gotlieb street. Got upset because of allergies. Akumatized at around one- ish? Yeah it was definitely one, I was in math class. How long did it take to catch her?” 

“About two hours,” Chat Noir said. His nose twitched as he remembered being hit by Spring Fever’s allergy beam. Sneezing fits, nasty hives all over his skin, blurry vision, he was ready to sit himself out until they figured out that the akuma was the flower sticking out of her hat. Yet something else also came to mind as he paid attention to Ladybug jotting down the information. There was something familiar about the strokes in her handwriting. The lines were thin and neat and the letters were squeezed in close together. He crossed his arms and leaned in to get a better look. 

Yes, he _had_ seen her writing before. But _where?_

_Yeah it was definitely one, I was in math class_

“Chat?” 

“I have math at one too,” Chat blurted.

He immediately zoned back in and glanced up at her confused expression.

“Sorry! I’ve got too much on my mind,” he exclaimed. His hand shot up and ran through his messy blond hair. He let out a nervous laugh.

“It’s ok. It happens to everyone. Hey, why don’t you come up? I could use a hand,” she added with a smile.

He got up from his seat and walked over to the calendar. Ladybug handed him the sharpie. He marked the _May 9th_ space with a butterfly.

“The Ticketor at the movie theater across from the TVi studio. Made a deal with Hawkmoth after some people didn’t pay the full fee for their tickets. I rushed out of my piano lesson to get there so it was like at four.”

“You play piano?” Ladybug asked.

“Yep. I can pick out a song here and there. It’s also why I got a good _grasp_ on things,” Chat flexed his fingers.

“Show me sometime. I’d like to hear you play,” Ladybug said.

“Definitely,” he replied with a smile.  
*************************************************  
“You’re _late._ ” Gabriel exclaimed in a frustrated tone.

Nathalie sighed as she dropped her bag on the desk. She rubbed one of her temples as she plopped down into the chair. The pain throbbed at the front of her head and spread out to the sides.

“I was stuck in traffic for nearly an _hour_ ,” she groaned. Mentally she still felt like she was trapped on the main road. Ear piercing horns went off as seconds passed into minutes. Drivers shouted obscenities and gestured violently as they looked out to see the line of cars that stretched out as far as the eye could see. And a breakthrough turned into disappointment as the cars were forced to stop after advancing a record breaking five inches ahead.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I did but you didn’t pick up. I left a message,” Nathalie reached for her bag.

“Well I didn’t _get_ it!”

“I’ll show you,” she took out her phone and offered it to him. He turned away with a _hmpf_

“I’m not going to waste any more _time!_ The Menswear show is in a month and I _need_ these meetings planned out so they don’t interfere with my schedule!”

“You don’t need me to schedule meetings that you know you can do yourself,” Nathalie muttered as she massaged her temples with her free hand.

“I don’t have time to do that _either!_ ”

“Please stop shouting I have a headache,” she snapped back at him. 

“My hands hurt from sketching all day! I’ve been working through this pain for _weeks_ Your headache will go away or something!”

Nathalie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She glared up at him.

“Just give me the numbers,” she coolly said.

“I’ll text them,” he grumbled.

“But isn’t that just _wasting your time?_ There’s a chance I won’t _check my phone_ when I’m _working._ ”

Gabriel stormed out. Nathalie moved her chair in and reached for her phone.

“What’s today’s date?” She wondered out loud as she opened up the calendar app.

_Today’s the 26th?_

Her hand suddenly felt clammy. Her phone began to slide down her hand to the desk. The pain shot through her head again as his words echoed in her ears:

_Nathalie you’re **late** _  
********************************************************  
The purple butterflies popped out against the paper. Sharpie streaks blotted the corners of the squares. Chat Noir’s wrist was hurting, and the pads of his gloves were stained, but he did not stop.

_Late Update: May 16_  
_Double Decaf: May 17_  
_Thieving Magpie May 18_  
_Excess Baggage: May 19_  
*****************************************  
“One, two, three…”

Nathalie anxiously flipped back and forth from the April and May calendars. Her thumb tapped against the screen as she scrolled past each row. Twenty- nine days plus one, two, three, four…Today was the fifth day and her period _still_ hadn’t come. 

She had gone through the past three cycles and she wanted to believe that she miscounted, but the little black numbers thickened against the screen.  
She was usually so _good_ on keeping on top of these things. She couldn’t take the pill because of allergic reactions, but she was the one to make _sure_ that she or Gabriel were using some form of birth control (especially when he was still married, they knew they had to be careful and they _were_ ) Now Nathalie struggled to recall through the throbbing pain in her head and the butterflies bouncing around in her gut, if they even _used_ protection the last time they had sex. He had forgotten the last few times and it fell on her to be responsible…

“What if five days turn into _six?_ And six into _seven?_ ” She whispered as her heart pounded up and out against her chest.

She hardly heard the creak as the door opened again.

“Nathalie? Did you get my message?” Came his voice.

_What if I’m pregnant?_

“Yes,” she avoided his gaze.

_With your child_

“I’ll call right away.”  
*********************  
“He’s been giving us a bit of a vacation. We haven’t had an akuma attack in a week,” Ladybug remarked as they finally stepped away from the calendar.

It had taken two days for them to fill out the calendar. Doodles, notes, arrows, and annotations covered the wall- sized sheet of paper. Pictures of the akumas, taken from newspapers and The Ladyblog were pinned against the corresponding dates.

“Hmmm interesting. Hawkmoth is definitely not a morning person, but he’s not a night owl either. Half of the time he’s sent out akumas it was between twelve and two, or four and six.”

“Wait a second? Don’t people take their lunch breaks between twelve and two?”

“Yeah. And most people get out of work between four and six. Of course he has to be a guy with a job; he’s a lot older than us.”

“But wouldn’t someone with a job make good use of their weekends to get stuff done that they couldn’t do during the week?” Chat Noir pointed to the blank Saturday and Sunday spaces.

Ladybug paused. She placed a finger on her chin as she thought it over. Her eyes followed the butterfly drawings that stretched for five days straight for the previous week.

“Didn’t you think it was a bit weird that we had an akuma attack every single day last week?”

He nodded.

“What if he did that because of work? Whatever he does has to be time consuming if he uses up most of the week _and_ weekends. And something had to come up for him recently because we had akuma attacks last month for the weekends and _none_ for this one.”

The memories of the past month flashed in his head. Drawings of suits scattered across his father’s desk. His father huddled over a cup of coffee at one AM in the morning. Going for nearly days without seeing him because Gabriel left early and came back late. The dates for Menswear Fashion Week in June highlighted on the calendar in the study. Nathalie relating her discovery to him at the park…

He turned towards her.

“I have the craziest theory."  
**************************************  
Nathalie was now seven days late.

The past two days had been a blur of transferring designs, car rides, phone calls, and model fittings. The panic she felt had morphed into a numbness that resided in her lower stomach. It twisted whenever she glanced at a calendar or the day’s date on her phone. When she managed to look into Gabriel’s eyes and mask the worry in her tone. Whenever she checked, about hourly now, and found that her mind was playing tricks on her _again._ And always after eight at nine when she left the mansion, and only had her thoughts to keep her company. 

_What am I going to **do?**_  
_How am I going to tell him? How’s he going to take it?_  
_I can’t raise a kid. I’m not **ready**_  
_He **can’t** handle a kid. He can’t even take care of **himself** or his **son** _  
_What if the baby is born addicted because of **him?** What if Gabriel doesn’t stop using? What if it gets **worse**_  
_How can I still **be** with **him?** _

She paced back and forth through her apartment. Her hand pushed down on her lower stomach as her worries overwhelmed her. Tears clogged the back of her eyes, begging to be let out instead of being dried up. Her head was _killing_ her and the pain seeped through the rest of her body: legs, breasts, lower back, if it didn’t settle at the bottom of her stomach.

“If it doesn’t come by tomorrow, I’ll buy a test. If it doesn’t come by Monday, I’ll go to the doctor. Why can’t my period just come _already?_ With all the shit in my life, a _baby_ is the last thing I _need_ ”

The clock on the nightstand informed her that it was too late to still be up. Two hours had passed and Nathalie hadn’t succumbed to sleep. Her hands clutched the blanket she kept over the covers. Her eyes were fixated above as they tried to make out patterns in the mass of white that covered the ceiling. Her mouth stretched as some air escaped her lips. She tried to resist, fearing what might come if she closed her eyes, but the tiredness came to her in bursts until it completely had a hold on her…

_The hallway was dark except for the electric chandeliers that hung above. Nathalie did not know why but she felt compelled to walk. The air felt hot and stale. The back of her shirt clung to her skin. The sound of her footsteps echoing off the walls felt uncomfortably loud when they rang in her ears. Her legs ached. Her feet were sore. Saliva accumulated in her mouth and her skin felt clammy. It was too hot, yet Nathalie did not stop. She **had** to keep on walking. Her steps were slowing. Her breaths came out in pants. And then she faltered…_  
_Click- clack. Click- clack_  
_She looked back to see **them** _  
_Mother and son held hands as they advanced forward. They were the same height and slender. The two of them were clad in purple; she in the dress she modeled so long ago, and he in a more grown up version of the suit he wore. Their skin glowed a ghastly white. A smoky- black butterfly shaped mask concealed their hollow green eyes, and their lips were stained a deep blood red._  
_Nathalie **ran** _  
_Marie and Adrien were picking up speed with each step they took. She felt like the walls were closing in on her. They hissed as their hands reached out to grab her. She prayed for a turn, and exit, **anything** to throw them off. _  
_A faint blue light pierced the darkness. Nathalie pushed herself for the final stretch as the arch shaped purple door drew near. Out of breath, she clasped the doorknob and turned it. She jumped inside and slammed the door behind her. ___  
_She found herself in a circular shaped room. Blue light streamed from the stained glass window on the far side. Tiny white butterflies fluttered about. Nathalie squinted and saw a figure standing in the center with its back towards her. Curious, she began to walk again._  
_The figure turned. It was a man; tall, with blonde hair, and cool blue eyes. He was wearing a purple suit just like Adrien’s…_  
_Gabriel? She asked as she stopped just in front of him._  
_He surveyed her with a blank expression. He held his gloved right hand up. His fingers curled inward. His eyebrows furrowed and his arm swung back._  
_His fist sunk into her stomach._

__Nathalie woke up with a start. Her heart was racing. She had broken out into a cold sweat; it dripped down her face and soaked through her pajama shirt from the back and chest. It must have gotten to her shorts as well because they felt so _sticky_ and _damp._ Her stomach hurt again. It wasn’t the twisting pain of the past few days; it was a hot, bubbling pain that radiated out from the center of her lower stomach out to the sides._ _

__She sat up and moved the covers off her. Her feet touched ground and carried her over to bathroom. She switched the lights on and closed the bathroom door halfway._ _

__**Finally** _ _

__“Thank god,” she sighed in relief. She shakily breathed as her lips trembled into a smile. The tears that she had been holding back for so long flowed down her cheeks._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hey guys! Sorry for another long stretch between updates. This month has been busy. I promise that the next few chapters will come sooner this time._   
>  _And that Menswear show is an actual thing:http://fashionweekonline.com/mens/upcoming  _


	16. The Explanation

Chat Noir wiped the soles of his wet boots against the welcome mat and glanced up at the _3-7_ plaque on the apartment door to make sure that it was the right address. He pressed his finger against the bell and buzzed. His ears picked up light footsteps from the other side. The doorknob jiggled and clicked. The door swung and Nathalie peered out at him.  


He was so used to seeing her in business attire that her outfit of a wrinkled red t shirt, loose fitting black yoga pants, and white ankle socks came as a shock. Her raven hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and not a trace of makeup was seen on her face. He reminded himself that what he saw on a day- to-day basis probably didn’t come _close_ to how she was in real life.  


“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” she said as she let Chat Noir in.  


They stepped inside. It was a decently sized apartment for one person. A wide archway separated the kitchen and living areas. Towards the far end, he saw the start of a hallway that he assumed led to the bedroom and bathroom. Two large windows in the kitchen and living room were situated parallel to each other. If it wasn’t pouring outside, he imagined how the sunlight would stream in; lighting up the cream colored walls, warming up the smooth red surface of the couch, bathing the bamboo plant in the far right corner, to bounce off the TV screen, and into the kitchen.  


“Want some tea?” She asked as he took a seat on the couch. It was very comfy.  


“Sure,” he said.  


He watched Nathalie fill up a kettle at the sink and place it on the stove. She took out two mugs and set them on the counter, along with milk from the fridge and sugar from one of the cabinets above. She returned and took a spot next to him on the couch. She glanced down at her hands before meeting his eyes:  


“I haven’t been completely honest with you about Gabriel,” she started. “I thought there were some things I could just leave out, but I realize that if I wanted to or not, that they couldn’t be ignored.”  


She took a deep breath.  


“We—“  


“You’re together aren’t you?” Chat Noir interrupted.  


A surprised expression crossed her face.  


“We _were_ but how did you know?” She asked.  


“Eh, I’m good at guessing,” he answered with a shrug. “But, uh, go on. I wanna see how this all fits in.”

“It’s--it’s not something I’m proud of,” Nathalie closed her eyes for a brief second before facing him. “I was a secretary when I first met him and he started coming on to me even though he was married. I was young, and naïve, but that doesn’t excuse the damage I did. I knew I hurt his family. I’m almost sure his wife knew and---“ 

She trailed off.

Chat Noir stared directly at her and lingered his gaze over her eyes. He studied the crisp blue that nearly overflowed onto her shrunken pupils, the way her lashes brushes together as she sat up, and how her eyelids sunk as she rolled her shoulders back. 

“After that…horrible kidnapping, we both agreed that we should stop seeing each other. But it didn’t last for long.”

He listened carefully to her tone. It was layered with guilt, regret, and something else that he couldn’t quite identify, but felt like he should.

“And then yesterday, I finally got it in me to do what I should have done in the first place…”

#### The Day Before 

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

The clock on the wall announced that it was half past ten. The pitter-patter of raindrops tapped against the window behind the desk. Nathalie and Gabriel sat across from each other in silence. She ignored his hawk like gaze and the cup of coffee that he had set out for her. Instead she twiddled her thumbs back and forth as her heartbeat synched up to the clock’s ticks. She had to handle this delicately, quickly, and most importantly, on good terms, and the nerves were getting to her.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

She took a deep breath and forced herself to look at him.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she admitted.

Gabriel did not react. No cold expression that bordered on freezing, or a flushed face that gave way to piping hot anger. He didn’t even lean forward to listen to her or push his chair back in surprise. Nathalie blinked. Purple specks of light bounced against the lens of her glasses. She opened her mouth.

“What we’re doing is _wrong_ and should be _ashamed_ of ourselves.”

But before she could process what she just said, Gabriel finally snapped out of his stoic trance.

“But—“

“What’s going to happen one day if someone finds out about us? They’re going to ask questions. Technically you’re still _married_ to her. All they know was that you were the perfect husband, and you practically _worshipped_ her. And now look at you; screwing your assistant, snorting cocaine, oh they’ll have a field day with that. I can just _see_ it _plastered_ on the front cover of every single tabloid in Paris. And if you think that will cause a shitstorm, wait ‘til they find out that Marie’s actually _dead_ because she found out about _us._ ”

“For the last time I **didn’t** kill her!” Gabriel snarled.

“I don’t believe you! You’ve just been _hiding_ things from me and _lying_ about them!”

“I’ve **never** lied to you!”

“You’re lying right _now!_ ” Nathalie exclaimed. “You know what Gabriel I am **tired** of putting up with your **shit.** I am **tired** of being worried sick about you. And I do **not** want you to **drag me** in deeper!”

“Nathalie what has gotten into you?” Gabriel shouted.

“I wish I never met you! Or maybe I wish you didn’t **exist!** Because even if I hadn’t been your secretary, there would have been another girl just like me, and you **still** would have ditched your wife and your son, just so you could **fuck** her!”

Nathalie was up on her feet and she slammed the chair into the desk and turned. She glanced over at Gabriel for the last time.

“I’m done with you,” she said coldly.

She headed to the door. A confounded expression washed over him, and a purplish haze clouded his glasses as he looked at her departing figure.  
****************************************************************************************************************************************************  
The kettle’s high- pitched whine broke off Nathalie’s monologue. She got up to turn the stove off. Chat Noir leaned back against the sofa and thought over her words. 

Her reasons for the breakup made sense: her concern over his father’s drug usage, and her guilt over the affair, but he was confused about the anger that suddenly had overcome her when she was telling his father about his family. Was there a missing piece to the story that she had omitted?

“I’m having peppermint tea. Do you want some?” She called out.

“Sure,” Chat Noir said. Nathalie walked over back to the couch and set the two mugs on the table. He reached over and picked it up.

“So what are you doing now?” He asked.

“Looking for a job. I already applied to several over the weekend. I hope someone will get back to me soon,” she said.

Chat Noir stared down at his tea.

“Yeah,” he said. He lifted his cup and took a sip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry again that this chapter's late. I had computer problems and then this weekend I was at an anime convention so I didn't get a lot of time to write. Also do you guys want me to link the new chapters on tumblr as they come out?
> 
> This fic hit over 2000 views! My most viewed fic so far here on Ao3 thank you so much guys! ^ ^


	17. The Coward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Heads up: this chapter is emotionally intense_

“What have you **done?** ” 

Gabriel’s shout rang throughout the room as he spun around. His palm sunk into the wall. A crack zig-zagged from the center as he pulled back with a yelp. His hand twitched and reddened. Moira smirked as she watched the scene from the safety of the nightstand counter. 

“Now, now, Gabriel, she was gonna break up with you anyway. I just _pushed_ her to get the best results. That’s all,” she gleefully cackled.

“I told you to not interfere with my private life!” He shook his wrist. The pain throbbed and pulsed through his fingers.

“Oh don’t tell me you’re getting _attached_ to her Gabriel. I mean she said it herself: it was only for sex. Do you just suddenly get all warm and fuzzy when chicks threaten to dump you? Or is there something that I’m missing, because I mean Marie practically _worshipped_ the ground you walked on, and look how you _used_ her,” Moira sneered.

“Leave Marie **out** of this!” Gabriel angrily shouted.

Moira’s eyes turned pitch black and bulged. Steam appeared to rise from her rapidly fluttering wings as she shot across the room. She reached out and slapped Gabriel across the face. He stumbled.

“Don’t you **dare** say that! Not after what you **did** to her!” Moira sputtered.

“I **didn’t** kill her! It was **you!** You **infected** me!” Gabriel’s voice soared. 

Moira’s hands dug into his neck. He flinched as she forced him to look her in the eye.

“I didn’t **strangle** her you **COWARD!** ”

Gabriel’s eyes widened. A rattling sound escaped his lips. Moira kept on screaming.

**COWARD**

He was seven again. He was back to being the boy who dragged himself home day after day from school: sobbing, covered in cuts and bruises, and clutching his cracked glasses. The taunts of _Four-eyes,_ _sissy,_ and _loser_ echoed in his ears as he made his way over to the living room. His two sisters: five year old Pauline, and three year old Isabelle looked up from playing with their Barbie dolls on the carpet. His father, sat up in the arm armchair, glanced over the top of his newspaper and frowned. The scarf that his mother had been sewing fell to the floor as she shot up from the rocking chair, and rushed over to his side.

_“Oh Gabriel,”_ his mother’s voice trembled as held her hand out to cup his face. 

But his father was quicker. The tall, intimidating man towered over the blubbering boy and yelled at him to stop crying.

_“Do you want to give those boys a reason to beat you up? They’ll think you’re **weak** if they see you cry! You’re too old to cry! You’re not a **baby** or a **little girl!** ”_

_"But they hurt me!"_ Gabriel whimpered. His tears splashed up against the lens before cascading down his face. He wished that his father wasn't home to see this. His mother would clean the cuts, give him some hot chocolate, and tell him not to worry. Then he'd go off and play with his sisters, and he would forget about the bullies for a little while. 

His father saw things differently. Gabriel was his only son and the eldest. A good older sibling should set an example for the younger ones, and the pressure was set high for Gabriel. He was a well mannered child, extremely bright, and creative. That alone would satisfy his father's demands if it weren't for the fact that Gabriel lacked both physical strength and an interest in hobbies typical of boys his age. 

_“You want them to stop picking on you? **Toughen up!** Give them a reason to be scared! Come on Gabriel, show me that you can fight!”_ His father got into a fighting stance and beckoned him to make the first move. 

_“Charles!”_ His mother protested.

_“You’ve been **coddling** him for far too long Marguerite! Boys his age don’t sit around playing **dolls** with his sisters or **sewing!** If he were more active he wouldn’t be getting into this **shit!** ”_

_“Don’t say that in front of the children!”_

His father turned back towards him. 

_" Go on! **Hit me!** Prove to me that you’re a **man!** Don’t be a **COWARD** ”_

**COWARD**

It was week before his breakout fashion show at age twenty-three. He stood in Raoul’s dark and damp apartment. His former friend and fellow designer shivered as he glanced up at Gabriel with a heartbroken expression. The little light that shone brought out the bluish tinge in his skin, the outline of his bones, his gaunt face, and thinning mousy hair. 

_“I can’t believe you. You promised I’d get **credit!** ” _ He exclaimed. 

_“Raoul. You can’t work and you can’t attend the show. I’m just taking over things for now,”_ Gabriel slowly said. 

_“So? It doesn’t matter! Half of those designs are **mine!** You should at least acknowledge that!”_

Raoul burst into a coughing fit as tears welled in his pale, hollow eyes. Gabriel felt a twisting sensation in his stomach but forced himself to ignore it. He wanted to turn away. He wanted to leave the apartment and never return. But he stood his ground. 

_“I thought you were different. You were the only one in lycèe who stood up for me when I was teased. When my family kicked me out of my house in university, you let me crash at your dorm. We spent **years** dreaming on making it big in fashion. You **knew** how much it **meant** to me! But you’re just like **them** aren’t you? The kids at school, my parents, the assholes in the industry. Ever since I was diagnosed, everyone’s given me the cold shoulder!” _

_“Raoul you’re overreacting,”_ Gabriel coolly said. 

_“You don’t even care that I’m **dying!** You’d do **anything** to save your own skin! You can’t afford a reputation by association can you? Is that really more important than our friendship?”_ Raoul choked back a sob. 

Gabriel said nothing. 

_“Go to hell you fucking **COWARD**_ ” 

**COWARD**

The shoebox lay at her feet. The top had come off and several of the incriminating photos had scattered about. The overhead light brought out the pink hues in Marie’s face. The crisp green color in her eyes faded from the tears that streaked down her cheeks along with watery mascara. Her voice shook as she rattled on about Nathalie. 

_"I'm a **man** Marie! Do you expect me to **control** myself?" _ He flatly said. 

She stopped in her tracks. As she took in his words, her irises darkened to a greenish-black. The mascara bunched up on her cheeks as her whole face turned red. She bared her teeth in a snarl as she spat: 

_"Don't give me that bullshit! You and I both know what you are and that's a **COWARD!"**_

Gabriel found that it was getting harder to breathe. His hands clenched as he tried to bring them up to swat Moira away. 

**COWARD!**

Marie couldn't scream anymore. Her body dragged him down to the ground with her. Her bloodied purple lips mouthed the word as the color drained from her face. 

_Coward._

He broke out into sobs. His glasses fogged up, the tears felt hot on his skin, and something deep inside twisted in his chest as it attempted to be freed with his screams. Moira loosened her grip on his neck and let him go. She shot him a disgusted look before turning away. He collapsed to the floor and buried his face in his hands. 


	18. The Old List

_Clean your room_

Those three words had a different meaning when it came from his father. When Gabriel asked Adrien to clean his room, he did not mean for Adrien to tidy up after himself (that was the cleaning lady’s job); but to go through and throw out old personal possessions.

Adrien couldn’t bear to part with anything that had the slightest sentimental value. Toys that kept him entertained for hours on end as a child gathered dust in the back of the closet. Notebooks dating back to primary school cluttered his desk in case they came in handy in the future. Favorite shirts that loosely clung to him only a few years earlier now constricted across his chest and under his armpits. So when the time came for a very late spring- cleaning, Adrien was filled with dread.

Luckily for him, Plagg volunteered to help. So they set aside a Sunday afternoon to get the job done. They went through the closet and picked out the old toys and clothes that would end up in new homes through charity, or face a certain death in the trash if they were beyond saving. 

“You _sure_ you wanna keep this?” Plagg held up a pair of jeans that Adrien had bought when he was twelve. Its once eye- popping turquoise color had faded from many washes. Tiny white threads loosely held the fabric together at the knees. One of the belt straps was ripped.

“It still fits,” Adrien opened one of the boxes and peered inside.

“Adrien. The last time you wore these I couldn’t tell if you were doing the ants in my pants dance or a penguin waddle. I don’t care how à la mode it is to subject yourself to some glorified fabric bondage, your legs and crotch will _thank_ me for this decision.”

Plagg dumped the jeans into the discard pile.

“Hey!” Adrien protested. He sighed and turned his attention back to the box.

“You gotta learn when to let go man,” Plagg threw up his paws. “It sucks but you really can’t run away from it forever. Sometimes —“

Adrien laughed. He picked up something flat from the box and held it up to get a closer look. Plagg squinted as he tried to see over Adrien’s hunched over figure.

“Are you even _listening_ to me?” 

With a groan, Plagg flew over and perched on Adrien’s shoulder. It was a crumpled piece of paper dated from 2010. **Adults Don’t Want Me To Know** was written in all caps at the top with a handy **Don’t Look** underneath.

“What’s this? Secrets?” Plagg asked. He leaned in to get a closer look.

“Yeah. I wrote this when I was like nine. I wonder if it still holds up. Hang on, let me get a pencil,” Adrien got up and went over to the desk. He came back and sat back down on the floor.

**1\. Papa Noel and la pettie souris don't exist**

“True,” Adrien said as he scribbled a quick note next to it.

**2\. When the cook says he's making a special surprise he's cooking brussel sprouts**

“Well look at that! Kid who eats everything hates Brussels sprouts,” Plagg remarked.

“I still hate them,” Adrien made a face as he remembered picking at the overcooked, steaming pile of Brussels sprouts on his plate as a kid. The overly bitter flavor overwhelmed his taste buds to the point of gagging. Despite Adrien’s complaints, the cook kept on serving “the special surprise” for years until one unfortunate dinner party when he was twelve. After struggling to keep the jumbling Brussels sprouts down in his stomach, they came back up just as he shot up to head to the bathroom. Right in plain view of his father, one of his designer friends, and two models. The memory still made his skin crawl.

**3\. There is no secret chamber behind the painting in the den**

“True,” Adrien said.

“Now hold up there, you’re just gonna give up like that?” Plagg butted in.

“I checked like five million times when I was a kid. There’s no secret anything.”

“Come on kiddo where’s your sense of adventure and all that jazz? If your dad has been keeping secrets, then that means this house is too. The secret chamber or whatever doesn’t _have_ to be behind the painting in the den.” Plagg’s whiskers curled up. He tilted his head and grinned.

“Plagg. What are you trying to tell me?” Adrien asked with a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“I’m not telling you _anything._ I’m just _putting_ an idea in that teeny little head of yours. Now move on to the next thing on your list before I _suddenly_ lose interest.”

“Fine,” Adrien grumbled. 

**4\. If someone says the food is quite exquisite they really mean it tastes gross**

“False. They’re just wannabe gourmets. But anything _you_ call exquisite is gross,” Adrien said to Plagg.

“Not true! I combine flavors to get the perfect taste. It’s an _art form!_ You just don’t have the taste buds to handle it, ” Plagg protested.

“Plagg, you put _camembert_ on top of _ice cream._ ” Adrien pointed out.

“It’s delicious!” 

“You don’t mix _ice cream_ and _cheese!_ And _camembert!_ ”Adrien made another face. He stuck out his tongue and let out a _bleh_

**5\. The third drawer in father's study is always locked**

“Yep. That’s where dad kept the shoebox full of stuff about him and Nathalie. I don’t know if he still uses that drawer though. Another thing to check?”

“Do it,” Plagg gave him a thumbs- up.

**6\. I know that ---, ---, and --- are bad words**

“So’s---“ Adrien mischievously grinned. Plagg started snickering. Adrien added the fourth word to the list.

**7\. Photographers edit photos on the computer so they look better**

“Then how’d ya think they came out so good?” Plagg incredulously said.

“I don’t know. They picked the best ones? Magic?” Adrien shrugged.

“Man, I can’t believe you were dense even back then,” Plagg teased.

“I was a kid! How was I supposed to know!”

“Eh, you can say photoshop’s a magic of its own so I’ll let it slide,” Plagg made a sliding gesture as he nudged Adrien’s shoulder.

“Ow!”

“Next!”

**8\. When my tutor scratches behind his ear when he's explaining things it means he doesn't know anything about it**

“True. He’d get all defensive too if you even tried to question him. Everything had to be his way and every single day I had to sit there and listen to his boring lectures. God, I hated that guy. I was learning stuff that you’d learn in _collège_ when I was ten. If mom and dad didn’t help me out there’d be no way I’d pass his lessons.”

“He sounds like a dick but hey at least when you did get to go to school you weren’t falling behind,” Plagg pointed out.

“Yeah. And I found out there were teachers who can actually teach,” Adrien agreed. 

**9\. When you cross your eyes they always uncross back**

Plagg attempted to cross his eyes. Since he didn’t have any pupils, his lime green irises only protruded outward inside of sideways. He frowned and placed his paws up over his eyes. With a grunt he tried again. Adrien snorted.

**10\. Fifi had an operation so she can't have kittens**

Adrien felt his heart sink as he thought back to his lost cat. He had never been sure why his parents didn’t tell him that Fifi had been fixed as a kid. He thought at first it was because he had talked about watching over and taking care of Fifi’s future kittens, similar to a proud grandparent with their grandchildren, and that he would be upset if he knew the truth. Maybe his mother and father feared it would lead to questions about sex. Or perhaps there was no reason at all for Adrien to know. He absentmindedly stroked Plagg’s head. The kwami nuzzled up to his palm and closed his eyes.

**11\. You can't dig a hole to China**

“Not even with Cataclysm,” Adrien said.

**12\. The paparazzi are always mean even if they are nice**

“Those curse word number twos really can go curse word number four themselves,” Adrien flicked his finger against the paper. An almost angry expression crossed his face.

**13.When adults say that everything's fine it really isn't**

“I don’t care if they’re trying to protect me, I _hate_ it that they cover up their problems with an ‘I’m fine.’ I mean look at Nathalie. I _know_ she’s hiding something from me about my dad that’s not about the drugs and the affair. And I can tell that it’s bothering her but she says that she’s ok and tries to talk about something else. Why can’t people just tell me the _truth?_ I’m _old enough._ If I can, I can _help._ I---“ Adrien stopped mid rant. He glanced down at the paper and sighed. Plagg gave him a concerned look but Adrien ignored him.

**14.Father only cares about work**

“Well, he cares mostly about work. But he cares about me. And he did care about mom. It’s, it’s just that he’s not overly affectionate like other people,” Adrien figured.

**15.Sometimes heroes don't always win sometimes they die fighting so things can get better**

“Wow this list is getting depressing. Did you really think all this stuff when you were nine?” Plagg remarked.

“Yeah. But I was mostly a happy kid except when it came to my home life. It’s weird because I was an immature kid, really optimistic too, but I could be so _cynical_ at the same time. Maybe it would be different if mom and dad’s relationship were healthier and I wasn’t so shut in. But I’ll never know…Sometimes heroes die, but it doesn’t always mean that things will be better because of their death. Sometimes, things get better. Other times, things stay the same. But I think we should look at what we can do when we’re alive. ‘Cause we can see how our actions help others. And we can feel good knowing that we’re doing something to make to the world a better place, and who knows, we can inspire someone to do the same.”

Adrien smiled. He glanced over at Plagg before going back to the list.

**16.My mother doesn't have a little friend**

“Does Moira count? Nah, that doesn’t make sense. Why would my mom talk about Moira when no one’s supposed to know about her? Something to do with dad? All of the times I heard her say that she was talking to him,” Adrien was stumped. 

“Let me help,” Plagg piped up. “What’s something that happens to your mom on a _regular_ basis? Let’s say month to month. Something that she doesn’t wanna mention directly in front of you, so she calls it her ‘little friend’ instead,” Plagg made an air-quote motion with his paws.

Adrien gazed up at him with a confused look. He raised his finger up in the air.

“Can I get another clue?” 

“I know you can get this! Think!” Plagg tapped his head.

Adrien thought for a few seconds. A look of understanding broke through.

“Oh! It’s her period. Yeah that does make sense. But how do you know?”

“Adrien I’ve been alive for 5000 years. You learn a thing or two from the heroes you live with,” Plagg said.

**17.Adults don't think kids are smart**

“There are plenty of adults who do think kids are smart. And they encourage you to learn more about what you like, and they listen to what you have to say. I didn’t think they existed until I was thirteen when I went to school. I wish I can go back one day. Maybe _lycée,_ ” Adrien sighed.

**18.My parents don't get along**

“Dad cheated on mom. That’s a good reason why.”

**19.My father stole money from another fashion company**

“Ooh boy,” Plagg whistled.

“Never got caught too. If anyone even tried to accuse him he’d have a whole army of lawyers to back him up. Dad’s not one to cross,” Adrien added.

**20.If you pretend to be really sad in a photoshoot the pictures come out better**

“Less sad, more of a mix of I don’t care and you really piss me off type of look.”

**21\. Mama sneaks out of the house at night and comes back early in the morning**

“That’s because she’s a hero. I wonder how’d she react if she knew that I was one just like her.”

“She’d be proud of you kid. I know I am. You’ve come a long way,” Plagg told him.

“Maybe when I find her and she comes back, we can go superheroing together. A parent and kid team up, just like _The Incredibles!_ Wouldn’t that be cool? And Ladybug can join, and we’ll all work together to protect Paris!” Adrien exclaimed. He glanced off to the side with a dreamy expression. His hand reached up and touched his shoulder. He closed his eyes and imagined for a moment that it was his mother’s hand that rested there. He smiled.

**22\. I don't think my father likes me**

Adrien became quiet. His eyes widened with an almost glassy like look as his lips mouthed the last word on the list. 

“Dad loves me,” his voice slightly wavered. “He doesn’t show it much but he cares. How else would he put up with me all this time?”

Plagg placed a comforting paw on Adrien’s hand.

“I know he wants things to be perfect and he wants me to be a model son through and through. But he wouldn’t stop loving me just because I don’t live up to what he wants. He may not approve of what I want for myself and he’ll say he’s disappointed with what I choose, but he knows that somewhere down the road I’ll be on my own. He recognizes that. He supports me. And…I love him for that.”

Plagg's whiskers drooped as he took in Adrien's words. He floated up to his shoulders and embraced him to the best of his ability. Adrien loosely placed his fingers around Plagg and took a deep, calming breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hey there! Do you want to know more about the little things of this Miraculous AU? If this fic reaches 3000 views I'll write a oneshot about Gabriel and Marie_


	19. The Encounter

_It can’t be_

Nathalie’s blood had turned cold. The hairs on her skin prickled up as she glanced over her shoulder at the morning commuters who were headed in the opposite direction. She looked past the slim figures showing off the latest business styles of the summer, swinging leather briefcases and designer purses, and clutching steaming hot cups of coffee, and zoned in on the back of a stocky, muscular man. His form fitting black t- shirt had creases around the waist, his jeans were faded and beginning to tear. But it was the shadows cast from above one of the awnings above that filled her with dread. It obscured his face. His shoulders broadened and the lines of his biceps thickened. She stumbled and her hands shot out. And for a second, she was back in the passenger seat as the car screeched to a halt along the highway. Her hands shakily held onto her sweatshirt hoodie as she slid out the door. Her sneakers kicked through the dirt as she glanced through the line of trees to see him standing in the shadows with a hand held out.

_The money?_

The man was long gone. Nathalie snapped back and picked up her pace, not wanting to be late for work. She still kept glancing back until she reached the end of the block, hoping that her mind was playing tricks on her.  
**********************************************************  
“Hey Plagg I think I got something here!” Adrien exclaimed as he took hold of the right side of the painting. The border slid out towards him. He took a step back and pulled it like a door handle. It opened to reveal a safe.

“Well I told ya so!” Plagg said as he flew over. 

“I just can’t believe that out of all the paintings here it’d be mom’s,” Adrien glanced over the handle back to the painting.  


Gabriel had it specially commissioned for he and Marie’s ten- year anniversary, based on Gustav Klimt’s _The Woman In Gold._ It was eerily beautiful, with the blend of golds, silvers, and strange eye like shapes that made up the dress. The painting of his mother stared directly at the viewer with an all knowing, serene expression. It reminded Adrien of statues of ancient Greek and Roman gods that he had seen in museums. Mysterious and untouchable beings yet who were beloved and worshipped. It didn’t fit his mother at all.

“But how are we gonna crack this safe?” Adrien asked. His hand hovered over the keyboard.

“Leave it to me!” Plagg turned transparent as he slipped through the metal door. With a click, and it swung open. Plagg cheekily smiled as he gestured at the two items on the shelf: a picture of Adrien’s mother, taken not too long before she disappeared, and a piece of paper.

“Why would dad keep this photo in _here?_ I know he feels bad about the cheating, and her disappearing on top of that, but he’s ok with leaving the paintings up. The rest of the photos are in albums, but what’s with _this one?_ " Adrien said in a puzzled tone. He did a double check to make sure he did not miss anything in the safe.

“Ya might wanna check this out,” Plagg picked up the paper and passed it to him.

“06- xx-xx-xx-xx. €5.000. Could it be my dad’s coke dealer?” Adrien glanced over his father’s neat handwriting. He stopped at the bottom right hand corner. His eyes widened.

“15th of July, 2011. That’s the day my mom disappeared,” Adrien’s voice trembled. 

Plagg flew over back to Adrien and landed on his shoulder. They stared down at the date.

“What does it mean? Is it ransom money? It looks like dad paid it so why hasn’t mom come back? It is because she didn’t have her Miraculous? Did she leave it behind during the struggle? I guess that’s how dad found it in the first place,” Adrien wondered out loud.

Without thinking, he reached into his pocket and took out his phone. He dialed the number. There came a ring from the other side.

“ ‘Ello?” Said a low, gruff, male voice.

Adrien froze. He nervously looked over at Plagg and gulped.

“Whaddya want?”

Adrien’s felt the phone slide through his fingers. It fell to the floor. A beep sounded as the connection cut off.  
********************************************************************************************************************  
It had to be a coincidence. This was the third time this week that Nathalie had spotted him during the morning commute and it was _scaring_ her. This time he had ditched his casual wear and blended in with the crowd with his tailor made Gucci suit. His hair had been slicked back, he keep a firm grip on the handle of his black suitcase, and light bounced off the lens of his sunglasses. His broad shoulders rolled back as he briskly walked right towards her.

Purple ribbon. €5.000. The earthy smell of night air. A headlight’s blinding glare. Two shadowy figures. Two bodies. Footsteps that disappeared into the darkness. Her head began to spin. Her legs shook. One fumble and her shoulder collided against black silk.

“Hey! Watch where ya going!”

The color drained from her face as the familiar voice reached her ears.

_The money?_

She stepped back. Everything popped out at her: his thick muscles, the sharpness of his jaw, his long toned legs, and the sneer that stretched across his face that jutted slightly out as he lowered his sunglasses to get a better look.

“You’re—you’re that girl.” 

She turned and broke out into a run.  
***************************************  
“I thought you said Hawkmoth kidnapped your mom?” Ladybug held up the paper to get a better look at the number.

“I think this guy works for him,” Chat Noir hastily said. 

He had still not told her that Hawkmoth was his father. They both had to keep their identities a secret and Chat Noir knew that any questions about Hawkmoth’s identity would unravel his own.

“That’s weird that you haven’t found the number on the net,” Ladybug said.

“Yeah, and I can’t get internet on my staff. Maybe you can check it out on your bugphone?”

“Let’s see,” Ladybug typed in the number on the search bar and pressed enter. 

“Chat, this is not good,” she slowly said.

“How come?"

“It's on the deep web. And it's on one of those mercenaries for hire sites.”

Chat Noir looked over her shoulder at the screen. She pointed at the first search entry. 

_La Camarde_

“The reaper?” 

“I think I can track his location if I call him. Wanna give it a shot?” Ladybug asked.

“Sure."

Ladybug punched in a command into the bugphone and put the phone on speaker. Two rings passed before the other side picked up.

“‘Ello?”

“I—uh--um--yo man c-can you get me some weed?” Ladybug tried to mask her voice by making it sound husky, but it came out as a nervous croak. Chat would have cracked up if the situation weren’t so serious. 

Silence.

“Uh. Please?” She apprehensively added. She anxiously glanced over at Chat Noir who gave her a thumbs up.

“Where’d ya get this number?” The man suspiciously asked.

“My friend told me you got good weed. Like totally dank,” Ladybug lied. She curled her fingers into an _o_ shape as she placed emphasis on the last word.

“Well ‘e must be a fucking idiot lil’ lady, I don’t do nothing below €1.000! Do I soun’ like one of ‘em---” La Camarde’s offensive language made Ladybug and Chat Noir flinch. 

“N-no,” Ladybug stuttered.

“Then piss off!” He hung up. Ladybug pressed another button and a map popped up on the screen.

“Got it,” she held out the phone for Chat Noir to see.  
******************************************************  
The sun was just beginning to set behind them as Ladybug and Chat Noir touched ground in front of an old, rundown building in the 18th arrondissement. He shortened his staff and placed it through the loop on his belt.

“I think he’s on the fourth floor,” Ladybug said as she quickly glanced at the bugphone. “Maybe we should---“

“I’ll go in alone,” Chat Noir solemnly gazed up at the building.

“Chat, this guy’s probably a killer! Are you sure you can take him on your own? I don’t want you to get hurt!” Ladybug protested. 

“It _has_ to be just me. I’m sorry My Lady,” he said.

“But—“

He placed his hand in hers and turned.

“Don’t worry about me. If I’ll need ya, I’ll _yowl_ so loud that the stray cats will come running too,” he tried to lighten up.

Ladybug gave him a slight smile. She stared up at him with those warm blue eyes that made him feel safe.

“Yowl as much as you’d like. I’ll be here,” she said.

They embraced. Chat Noir closed his eyes as his hands pressed against Ladybug’s back. He pulled back and brushed his lips against her cool forehead. Then he let go and started towards the building. He opened the front door and stepped inside.


	20. The Truth

Spots of black filled the living room as the overhead light flickered. Darkness filled the room. The beer bottle and five wads of cash on the table jolted and sprung up as the man’s fist hit the table.

“Son of a **bitch!** ” 

He grabbed the bottle and took a swig. With a groan he eased back into his chair and took out one of his cellphones to use as a flashlight. He resumed counting the money; muttering under his breath as he laid the bills out. He worked in silence, to the rhythm of the _drip-drip-drip_ coming from the bathroom faucet that washed out the last of the bloodstains from the suit he wore earlier that day. That damn thing took forever to clean. When he got it, the sales clerk told him to take good care because it was a one of a kind, _Gucci_ and even tucked in a little instruction booklet in the front pocket. That had to be the most hoity-toity bullshit he had _ever_ seen. For Christ sake, it was a _suit._ He’d wear it, and wear it out. It didn’t need any fucking special care. 

Between the drips he picked up a faint thud coming from the stairs. He checked the phone. Eight. No one on his floor came back at eight; the law- abiding citizens stayed behind closed doors after the day was done. The junkies and hookers who ventured out for their midnight thrill went out much later. His hand clasped around the bottle’s neck. 

His eyebrows furrowed as he kept on listening. It was an odd mix between light skips that barely touched the ground, and a heaviness that he knew were the sound of combat boots hitting the floor.

He got to his feet and yanked the bottle towards him. Whoever was out there was coming for _him._ The adrenaline shot through him. With a swift movement he slid into stance; clutching the bottle, ready to swing, clobber, just **itching** for a fight.

**Crash**

A dirt- caked sole made a dent in the door. A slim figure pushed through and the rest of the foundation fell around him. La Camarde glanced over at the intruder. He only could make out the eyes; wide as a cat’s, a deep yellowish-green, that hovered midair around where his own shoulder level would lie. Everything else was shrouded by the darkness. It made La Camarde feel like he was staring at a ghost. For a second, his grip on the bottle loosened. 

“ **Where** is she?”

A kid: fourteen at least and seventeen at most. He could not let his guard down, not even with a brat like him.

“What d’ hell?” 

“ **Where** is she?” The kid repeated. His left hand clenched into a ball. Gloved, with tiny triangular shaped claws protruding from the tip that sharpened. La Camarde shifted his weight and brought his body in to appear as if he towered over the intruder.

“I don’ know who ya talkin’ about.”

“ **Marie Agreste! Where IS she?”**

“I don’ know any Marie Agreste!” He growled. His muscles tensed up. He zoned in on the target, wanting to strike, to subdue him, almost breaking the bottle in his grasp into tiny pieces.

“You **LIAR!** ”

The kid charged. La Camarde brought the bottle down to find that it shattered against a long, staff like weapon. He slid back and his arm shot out to take hold of it. He dragged the staff and the kid around.

The kid was a feisty one. He kicked and squirmed as he tried to push back. Claws popped out and he slashed at the air. La Camarde did not jolt back. He knew that’s what the kid would want him to do. He shoved the staff onto the kid’s chest and sent a sharp kick at the leg. The kid hobbled about, but did not loose his balance. He lunged again.

La Camarde had a better view as he grabbed the kid by the shoulders. Even though it was dark, he could tell that the kid’s hair was light in color. Two cat shaped ears protruded from the top. A circular object (a bell?) stuck out from the center of the kid’s chest.

Was he dealing with that damned Chat Noir?

“MARIE AGRESTE! WHERE IS SHE? **WHERE IS SHE?** ” The kid shrieked.

With all his might, La Camarde slammed him to the floor. Before the boy could spring up again, he pushed the legs together and stepped on them. 

“Ow!” 

“Now listen lil’ cat, you ain’t gettin’ away,” La Camarde spat. “I could break ya legs if I wanted, but I ain’t gonna. I don’ mess with brats like you. My kills are for m’ clients an’ them—“ La Camarde spat out another derogatory word. “--on the battlefield. But if ya gonna keep on yapping an’ scratching, you just migh’ push m’ patience. So---“ La Camarde placed his hands on his hips and made a clucking sound like how an angry parent would react to their misbehaving child. “Whatcha doing here?”

“What did you DO to her? Where IS she?”

La Camarde sent his boot down again. The cat howled. 

“I tol’ ya for the last fuckin’ time I don’ know any fuckin’ Marie Agreste!” La Camarde exclaimed. 

“YOU BASTARD!” The cat hollered. “YOU’RE LYING! YOU **TOOK** HER YOU FUCKING PIECE OF **SHIT!** ” Spit flew from his mouth. His face was flushed. La Camarde could feel the air in the room go up by a couple degrees.

“WHERE ARE YOU HIDING HER? WHAT DID HAWKMOTH TELL YOU TO DO? WHERE IS SHE? DON’T LIE TO ME!”

La Camarde sighed. He pressed his foot down a little harder as the cat began to writhe about again.

“YOU KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT! **JULY 15th!** JULY 15th 2011! YOU KIDNAPPED HER FROM HER HOME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!”

La Camarde’s foot loosened. He lifted it and glanced down at the boy with a stern look. He shook his head and clucked again.

“5000€,” he recalled.

He stepped back and snapped his fingers.

“Sit up,” he ordered with a point.

The cat did as he was told. With a few “ows” he gazed up at the man with an expression of absolute hatred.

“Ya wanna know what I did ta her?” La Camarde started.

The cat winced as he blinked up at him. His breath came out as a shallow gasp.

“I **buried** her.” 

The cat screamed. Ten claws slashed the floor. A wild look crossed his eyes as he struggled to lash out again.

“Now **LISTEN!** ” La Camarde barked. He threatened to step on the boy’s hands. “Ya know what I do lil’ cat. I get rid of th’ messes in peoples’ lives. My clients give me th’ name and they pay me well. But sometimes I gotta clean the messes **they** made, an’ they don’ know how to clean it up. That night I got a call from a man who ended up wit’ two dead bodies. One of ‘em was that Agreste girl. ‘Nother was a cat. I could tell from his voice, how it shook that ‘e did it. I tol’ him what ta do an’ he dragged some chick ‘long with him to the meetin’ spot. It was dark but I took a good look at him like I am with you. He looked a lot like you lil’ cat: same color hair, same build, only he was tall and wore glasses. He paid me, we took the bodies out, and we burned them. Then I left.” 

The boy fell silent. The color drained from his face. His lips trembled.

“I ain’t lying to you lil’ cat. I don’ have no reason to lie. I swear this by the bottom of whatever soul I ‘ave left in m’ gut.”

_He was awoken by a heart wrenching scream. Without even getting his feet into slippers, he bolted out the door into the hallway. He skidded to a halt just outside the study._  
_”MARIE! OH MY GOD! MARIE!”_  
_He wasn’t alone. Several of the help had come upstairs as well. Whispering amongst themselves, they had gathered around the door, blocking his view of what was inside._  
_“MARIE! OH GOD! OH GOD!”_  
_He caught a glimpse of a figure huddled close together on the ground. To his shock, his normally composed father was not only just wearing a bathrobe outside of his room, just was loudly sobbing. His thin blond hair was unkempt, a hand clutched a crumpled up piece of paper, and his glasses fogged up as he shouted again:_  
_“MARIE! MARIE!”_  
_A hand latched down on his shoulder. Someone pulled him back._  
_“Come Adrien. Come along.”_  
_It all happened so fast. The police rushed in and out. A thick yellow tape blocked the study and a camera’s flash went off from inside. His father paced about, still visibly upset and unresponsive as one of the investigators attempted to console him. Shouts came from outside. Reporters, fans, paparazzi swarmed the gates. He peeked out from the bedroom window, frightened. He cried for what seemed to be the thousandth time that day. Rocking back and forth, he called out for his mother; wishing she could just rush over and take him into her arms, whispering that everything was going to be all right. But his mother was gone; and he wasn’t sure if he would ever see her again._  
_A gurgle in his stomach snapped him out of his cry. As he tentatively started down the stairs, he remembered that he had to feed Fifi._  
_“Fifi! Fifi are you hungry?” His voice shook as he called for his cat._  
_Several members of the investigative team came out of the study. Downstairs, the police chief questioned one of the help. His father, worn out, had retired to his room. He glanced about, hoping to hear the familiar sound of pitter-patter against the carpet, and the jingle of the bell she wore on her collar. He raised his voice._  
_“Fifi?”_  
_No one noticed he was sitting there on the middle of the stairs. Not even his own cat._

He didn’t make it. He was only halfway down the second floor when it hit him. He collapsed with a shrill cry. His vision blurred as his eyes stung from the hot tears gushing down his face. He clutched the railing as the noises around him grew fainter until one voice broke through:

“Chat!”

And then Ladybug was next to him. She wrapped her arms around him protectively and pulled him in. He clung tightly to her, burying his face in her shoulder and digging his palms into her back, sobbing at the top of his lungs.

“Chat. Chat what happened?” her voice choked up as her hand gently rubbed his hair.

For a second Chat Noir forgot how to speak. Gibberish, a new scream, and a flood of tears muffled against Ladybug’s shoulder as he struggled to find the words.

“My mom—my mom---“ He whispered.

He finally found the strength to look at Ladybug in the eye. With a shudder, he exclaimed in between sobs:

“My mom’s **dead!** "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys I've got a few things to tell you!
> 
> 1\. I started a new ML fic series called [All That Glitters](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7610209/chapters/17321434) Like adventure? Like Ladynoir? Then check it out!
> 
> 2\. Also, I'm giving you guys a heads up for the next set of chapters: they will be emotionally intense and might contain mature/unsettling content. If you feel uncomfortable at any point let me know and I'll tone it down.


	21. The Argument

“Please Chat, at _least_ let me take you home.”

The two heroes had taken refuge on the roof of a nearby building as the police swarmed in to take down La Camarde. Curious onlookers shouted and pushed their way to the front of the police tape to get a better look at the scene. Many more gazed out from rickety balconies and from behind worn out and faded curtains. A news truck had just pulled up on the opposite side of a street and a camera team rushed out.

Ear-piercing sirens blared and a flash of blue light passed over Chat Noir as he lifted his head up from his knees. His eyes were red and puffy. His cheeks were streaked with tears.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled with a hiccup. 

“Chat, I don’t want you to be alone,” Ladybug said in a worried tone.

“I’ll be fine.”

“ _Chat,_ ” Ladybug sighed. She gave his shoulder one last squeeze before getting to her feet.

“Are you _sure_ you’ll be ok alone?” She asked one last time.

“Yeah,” he answered.

For a second it looked like Ladybug was about to convince him to go with her again, but she nodded as she took out her yo-yo and prepared to take off. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow. Get home safe ok?”

The shouts and sirens covered up the whizzing sound Ladybug’s yo-yo made as she swung from rooftop to rooftop. Chat Noir buried his face in his knees again, not even bothering to look up at her as he always did when she left.  
***********************************************************  
 _Police have arrested a man suspected in the killing of a prominent business-man--_

The news at this hour ensured that Nathalie would fall asleep within fifteen minutes tops, but an hour had already passed and she _still_ wasn’t feeling drowsy. 

_An anonymous tip led police to this rundown building in the 18th district---_

Wouldn’t it be more convenient to save such a big news story for the morning when more people would see it? Why couldn’t they just cut to something dry and dull like stock reports and the weather like they always did? She yawned, waiting for sleep to wash over her, feeling her body sink down lower on the couch…

**Screech**

Nathalie sat up with a flinch. Goosebumps prickled on her skin as she glanced about. She cupped her hands over her ears as the ear- grating noise came again from the kitchen.

**Screech**

The outside part of the kitchen window was covered in scratches. A low hissing came as Nathalie entered the room. She looked out the window to see the outline of a tall, perched, feline figure. Its glowing green eyes furrowed as it gazed at her.

Chat Noir?

She motioned for him to let go of the window. She opened it and stepped back. The teenaged superhero tumbled in and sprung to his feet. The claws on his gloves retracted as he clenched his both of his hands into fists. He rolled his shoulders back and stared at her with an expression of pure hatred.

“You told me you were going to be honest about **everything!** ” He yelled.

“What—“

“You **really** live up to your name don’t you **heartless** Lying whenever it suits you and pretending that everything’s is all nice and dandy, as you kick all the damage you’ve done right behind you. You’ve been keeping up that **act** since the **day** I met you all those **years** ago!”

“Chat Noir,” she started. “I don’t—“ 

“You’re no better than that **bastard** Nathalie! You’re even **worse** because you went along with **every** single thing he told you to do!” 

Nathalie ‘s jaw dropped. Even if Chat Noir was young for a superhero, she could not believe that he’d stoop so low as to swear in the heat of the moment. And gone was the polite ‘Ms. Sancoeur’ that he always addressed her by. 

“ _Sort my files, Nathalie,_ ” Chat Noir’s voice took on a pompous, mocking tone. “ _Call my wife, Nathalie. Suck my dick Nathalie._ ”

“ **Stop it,** ” anger seeped through Nathalie’s voice as she struggled to remain calm.

“ _Make sure no one knows Nathalie, and while you’re at it help me **bury** her body!” _

Nathalie’s blood ran cold. Her face grew pale. Everything around her slowed as the memories flashed one by one before her.

The phone call. _I need help. Come quickly_ Bulging, diluted eyes. A shattered bell. Blood splattered all over the study floor. 5000 € tucked underneath a giant purple ribbon. Passing a never- ending stretch of trees on the highway. _Stay with me, stay with me._ Digging her nails deep into his back, leaving red scratches in their wake. Water splashing off the tiled floor. _How can you LIVE with yourself? She’s DEAD Gabriel she’s DEAD_

“How did you---w-who are you?” She stuttered, frightened. 

A flash of black light filled the room. Nathalie jumped back with a shout and backed up into the kitchen counter. The light dissipated and she glanced up. A hand shot up towards her mouth. She gasped.

Adrien was standing in front of her.

Nathalie had no time to react to the fact that Chat Noir, the superhero who had been helping her for the past two months was also the son of the woman whose life she had ruined. Her whole body shook. Tears began to flow.

“YOU REALLY **HATED** HER **DIDN’T YOU?** ”Adrien screamed. Spit flew from his mouth and a wild look crossed his eyes. “YOU **WANTED** HER DEAD! IT DIDN’T MATTER THAT SHE HAD A **KID** MAYBE IF DAD DIDN’T DO IT **FIRST** YOU **WOULD!”**

“I **didn’t** hate Marie!” Hot tears streamed down her face. “Adrien **please---** ”

“SHUT UP I KNOW YOU’RE LYING TO ME!”

“I’m **NOT!** ” Nathalie shouted. “DO YOU **KNOW** WHAT IT’S LIKE TO WAKE UP EVERY SINGLE DAY KNOWING THAT YOU’VE **RUINED** INNOCENT PEOPLE’S LIVES? THAT IT WASN’T FOR **YOU** THAT MARIE WOULD STILL BE ALIVE? I **KNOW** WHAT I’VE DONE AND IT’S SOMETHING THAT I CAN **NEVER** FIX! I’VE BEEN **LIVING** LIKE THIS FOR ALMOST **FIVE YEARS!** EVEN WITH ALL THIS SHIT I NEVER ONCE HATED HER OR YOU! I—I” Nathalie began to sob again. “I ALMOST THOUGHT I COULD MAKE IT UP TO YOU! I THOUGHT THAT IF I HELPED YOU I---“

She slid down to the ground with a cry. She glanced up at him. His eyes were puffy. Tears ran down his cheeks, and he hiccupped before his voice warped into another scream.

“I—I **HATE** YOU!” 

He turned and stormed back to the window.

“ADRIEN!”

With an expression filled with guilt, regret, and remorse, Nathalie reached out for him one last time.

“ADRIEN **PLEASE!”**

He had already stepped through the window. Another flash of light and he was gone.

Nathalie buried her head in the crook of her arm. Rocking back and forth, she bawled.


	22. The Menswear Show

#### Wednesday June 22

“Adrien! Get out of bed! Your father will be _very_ angry with you if he finds out about this!”

He forgot that fashion week started today. It didn’t even occur to him the night before when he and Ladybug set out to confront La Camarde. Adrien lay in a fetal position, facing the wall, a blanket wrapped tightly around his body.

“You’ve already had a lie in! It’s nine and we’re running late! You need to practice your walk for Sunday’s show and you’re attending the Valentino one tonight!” The new assistant (who was not as nice as Nathalie had been) barked.

He had not slept a wink since two am. Every time he closed his eyes, he could hear his mother screaming for her life. His throat was sore, sharp pains shot up his legs, and the tears that once flowed dried up as each hour passed. By morning, he felt numb.

“I’ll be ready in ten,” he groggily said.

“Good. I’ll be waiting downstairs.”

The door closed. Plagg peeked out from the top of Fifi’s old cat bed by the desk and flew over. He gently tapped Adrien’s shoulder. He still didn’t move.

#### Hotel Salomon de Rothschild: Valentino Show 4:30 pm

Plagg insisted on going along with Adrien. He promised that he’d be as quiet as a mouse, that he’d curl up as snug as a bug inside Adrien’s front pocket and stay there, and that he won’t even need extra stinky cheese, pinky promise. But Adrien refused each time with an unconvincing ‘I’m fine’ each time Plagg brought it up. Stubborn as the kwami was, he forced himself in the back of the limousine as Adrien got in. The boy didn’t tell him to get out, nor did even acknowledge him. He fixed his gaze onto the floor and kept staring down as the car took off.

“How’s your legs?” Plagg glanced over at Adrien’s bright orange trousers that hid the bruises and swellings underneath.

“They hurt,” Adrien flatly said. He gingerly rubbed his knee. The pain wasn’t as intense as before but still lingered. He wondered how well he could hide it. He looked up at the back of the front seat. Gorilla was driving at around the speed limit, but to Adrien it felt too fast. His clammy hand grabbed onto the overhead handle. Butterflies tumbled about in his stomach.

“You ok?” Plagg asked as he saw how pale Adrien’s face had gotten.

“I’m fine,” he lied with a gulp.

The limo came to a stop. Plagg slipped into Adrien’s front pocket. Adrien opened the car door and got out.

White flashes assaulted his eyes.

For a second it looked like Adrien was about to lose his balance. His face turned white again and he nearly keeled over as the shouts came:

“Adrien! Adrien Agreste!”

“Over here! Over here!”

“Can you tell us about your dad’s show on Sunday?”

Adrien straightened himself up. His legs were shaking, his insides felt like they were being twisted and ripped apart, and he forced down a scream that was rising up his throat. He took a step. Then another. He could tell that he wasn’t walking right. The paparazzi still swarmed around him. 

“Come on now! Smile for us!”

Adrien trudged on through the crowd that closed in on him. A sharp pain went up his leg. His lip trembled. His whole body tensed up and his ears rang with their demand:

“ **SMILE!** ”

Adrien’s mouth stretched into a grimace. His eyes bugled. He weakly held up a hand and let out a hoarse chuckle. The parasites with their cameras burst into a chorus of clicks and roars.

They were laughing _at_ him.

#### Thursday June 23 

“You gotta eat something. We’ve got a big day ahead of us,” Plagg pleaded for the fifth time.

“I’m not hungry,” Adrien mumbled. He pushed his untouched plate of toast and fruit away from him.

“Adrien,” Plagg sighed with a droop of his whiskers.

“My stomach hurts,” the pain in his gut throbbed again. His hand would have normally gone to his stomach and rub in an attempt to soothe the pain, but it laid flat by his side. He had spent the night before cooped up in the bathroom after a heavy meal didn’t agree with him. Between the churning and the unbearable heat, he cried out for his mother, in the same tone and pitch just like when he needed her as a child. But no one came, and again it crashed over him that he was alone, and she was _gone._

“Then eat the toast. It won’t upset ya,” Plagg pushed the plate back at him.

“I don’t wanna eat.”

Yet Adrien methodically tore off a piece of toast and popped it in his mouth to appease Plagg. His mouth felt dry as he chewed; he didn’t pick up on the bread’s crunchiness or its flavor. And even though the food weighed down his throat as he swallowed, he still felt hollow inside.

####  Dior Homme x Dust Cocktail Party: 8:00 pm 

The loud music, bright lights, and the people waltzing from the bar to the dance floor overwhelmed Adrien. There was nowhere for him to run; the venue was packed, and people jostled him to and fro. Although they apologized, with half hearted or tipsy “sorrys”, Adrien ignored them. He made his way to the most deserted spot he could find. He placed his hands in his pockets and blankly stared down at the floor. Plagg’s head poked out of Adrien’s shirt pocket. He surveyed the scene then glanced back at his friend. 

“You wanna call Gorilla now to get us outta here?” He asked.

“And face _him?_ ” Adrien said in a low voice.

“He’s the one who made you come here,” Plagg was careful not to directly mention Adrien’s father.

“I can’t go home, I can never go back,” Adrien briefly gazed up at the crowd to only lower his head again.

“Kiddo think about it. If you didn’t go home, where’d you go?” Plagg pointed out.

Adrien said nothing. Plagg ducked back just in time just as a waiter carrying a tray passed them by.

“Sir,” the waiter thrust a glass of champagne into Adrien’s hand before heading off.

It took a second for Adrien to realize that he had a glass in his hand. The champagne overflowed and the foam cascaded onto his hand. Its overly fruity smell sent a punch at his nose, and his heart sunk.

“Mom loved champagne,” his voice was thick with emotion. 

His hand shook. The champagne spilled over his sleeve and dripped to the floor. He stared down at the half empty glass. His mouth opened to let out a croak as his chest constricted. His eyes rapidly blinked, stinging, dry, unable to let the tears flow.

#### Friday June 24: Givenchy Show, Lycée Janson de Sailly 6:00 pm

Adrien wished he were invisible. The mob was _everywhere._ Paparazzi, crew, fans, and spectators alike all hounded him as he made his way to his seat in the inner circle. The cameras flashed. Their shouts ordered him about. Hands roughly grabbed and dragged him over to snap a selfie or get an autograph. His skin crawled. His heart raced. His fantastically fake smile had just begun to fade. Deprived of sleep and food, he could do nothing as they pushed him, and pushed him, and _pushed_ him. 

Finally he made it. He slouched down and tried to shut the rest of the world out. But the crowd still buzzed all around him. He wanted to curl up into a ball and stay like that forever, just like Fifi used to do, and that he didn’t sleep well that night so he could stop his father, and _none_ of this would have happened, and they still would have been---

“Excuse me? Adrien?”

Someone tapped his shoulder. He flinched.

“Can I get your autograph?”

Suddenly the sadness that nested inside him burned into rage. His body tensed up as he spun around. The anger jumbled up into his chest, searing his throat, and burst out of his mouth as hot air and spit as he spat:

“ **No.** ”

“I’m—I’m sorry,” the person who asked quickly apologized.

“ **Don’t** ask me for an autograph **again.** I **hate** them!”

“I-I’ll just be —“

“I **HATE** them! Why can’t you **IDIOTS** understand that?”

The area around him became very quiet. Several people turned to glare at him. Wiped out, he buried his head in his hands, noticing that the row behind him had begun to whisper about the outburst.

#### Saturday June 25

“Adrien?”

Plagg flew over to Adrien’s side the moment he sensed that he had woken up again. Unlike the nightmares of the past, Adrien no longer vocalized when he had snapped out of it. For the kwami, it was even more frightening to see the boy completely silent, immobile, staring up at the ceiling with a completely lifeless expression.

“Adrien what happened?”

Adrien let out a shaky breath. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.

“Talk to me.”

Adrien didn’t say a word.

“Come on, it’s not much but you’ll feel better.”

Plagg reached out to place a comforting paw on Adrien’s head, but the boy had broken out of his trance. He moved over on his side into a fetal position, with his back to Plagg. The kwami moved his paw back to his side with a sigh. His eyes were full as he glanced down at Adrien.

“I just want to be there for you man,” he admitted.

#### Sunday June 26: Agreste Show, 11:30 am 

It was an hour and a half to show-time. Adrien had appeared from behind the curtained off area in the black jeggings he was given when the styling team descended upon him. Out went his arms and a thin lilac dress shirt was fitted and buttoned up his frame. A thin belt slid into the trouser loops. His feet were forced into boots that came up to the knees. Someone laced them up while another fitted a black ribbon around his collar. Out his arms went again and they were squeezed into the sleeves of a broad shouldered, black blazer. Lilac leather gloves covered his hands.

“Oh I’m loving it!”

“It’s a classic!”

He was shoved into a chair and the brushes, creams, and liners prodded, smeared, and dented his face. Long fingers tussled through his hair with a slimy gel and a sharp comb separated the strands and yanked them back. Adrien’s face felt hot. His skin twitched. His hair felt like it was on fire. Adrenaline pumped through his limbs, urging him to break free, to escape, _run._ But the numbness kept him down; pushing on his chest, suffocating any other feeling that threatened to surface. It took forty agonizing minutes for the team to style him.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been eating too much junk food,” one of them joked. “Man you’re covered in zits! Claude! Concealer!”

“Whoa! Sit still! It’s not like we’re trying to kill ya!”

Then they forced him back on his feet. He stumbled about; unaware of what was happening or of his surroundings. Their hands grabbed his shoulders and their overly enthusiastic chirps assaulted his ears.

“Oh you are just gonna steal the show!”

“Your father is going to be _so_ proud of you!”

“Look in the mirror!”

By the time Adrien managed to walk over to the mirror, they were gone. With little interest, he looked up at the unhappy, thin, and pale boy in the mirror: all dressed up with---

It was like someone had punched him in the stomach. He moved back with a jolt, full of dread. The purple in the gloves and shirt made him break out into a sweat. The blacks of the bow, blazer, and jeggings made his chest constrict. The silver butterfly belt buckle gave off a blinding glare. His contoured cheeks jutted out, his wavy blond hair was slicked back just like---

_Your father_

The image in the mirror lost its balance. It kneeled over and vomited on the floor. His head spinning, Adrien clasped a hand over his mouth as he struggled to move to the wastebasket. Thick yellowish-brown liquid seeped from the cracks between the gloves and trailed behind him. He gagged as he collapsed onto the rim of the wastebasket. His stomach twisted, and his throat burned each time its contents came back up. In between the waves of pain, low, distorted voices echoed behind him.

“If you’re going to stick your fingers down your throat. Do it in the bathroom so you don’t stink up the place,” came a model’s curt voice.

“Hey! This kid’s puking his guts out!” Another model piped up. 

“Adrien! Oh my god are you ok?” A female stylist who had worked on him asked.

Adrien glanced up at them. Residue vomit dripped from the corner of his mouth as her words rang in his ears. His body shook again and loosened. The numbness that had been holding him together shattered into tiny pieces. He began to uncontrollably sob.

“Adrien? Adrien are you sick?”

His sobs soared into screams. His eyes stung, the vision was blurry, and he leaned back against the wastebasket with his head in between his knees.

“ **Mama!** ” was the only comprehensible word that he sputtered.

“Do you think he can go on?”

“Well he could fake it but if he’s throwing up that much---“

“What the **hell** is going on here?” An angered familiar voice broke though the rest.

A chill washed over Adrien. He whimpered, shutting his eyes tight, hoping to avoid the figure that towered over him.

“What the **fuck** is this? Why is Adrien on the fucking ground?” Gabriel shouted.

“I think your son is sick.”

“No **shit.** Oh **fuck,** look at what you **did,** ” Gabriel gestured at the stains on the blazer and gloves. 

“ **Fuck!** You’ve been taking **only** liquids since **yesterday** and you **manage** to— **Shit!** “ Gabriel threw his hands up with an exasperated expression. 

“Sir should we get something into his system?”

“And let him get **bloated?** Are you fucking **dumb?** Just—just clean him up. Then---“ His cellphone rang. 

“Jesus **FUCKING** Christ! Why can’t these---“ Gabriel hollered an extremely vulgar word as he reached into his pocket. “Leave me **ALONE!** ”

He stormed off as soon as he picked up the call.

The vomit stains had been blotted out of the blazer. The gloves could not be saved. A plate of crackers, water, and a breath mint had been handed to him while they retouched his hair and makeup. Feeling his heart climbing up his chest, he took his place in line. The models strutted out one by one; clad in the styles that the experts predicted would be a hit in the coming year. Then without warning, he was thrust out onto the runway.

His wobbly legs were carrying him as fast as they could. He forced his head up high. The poppy dance beat that blasted from the speakers was deafening, the overhead lights threatened to blind him, and sweat drenched his shirt, but he _couldn’t_ stop. 

He looked out at the audience. He focused on the first row and imagined that his mother was sitting there; perhaps in a pink dress, her legs crossed, her hair falling at her shoulders. How she would grin ear to ear as he passed, and cheer for him. He’d glance over at her, and although he could not break his stoic demeanor, he’d try the best he could to nod his head and slightly smile. She’d keep on clapping; so proud of him, a look of love and wonder in her eyes as she’d blow him a kiss as he turned.

_That’s my son. My Adrien_ She would whisper to someone next to her.

Adrien didn’t notice that his walk had changed. That his hips were swaying side to side, his shoulders rolled back, arms loosened, and a tilt of the head as he headed back to the curtain, something that sent the fashion savvy members of the crowd into a whirl. When he had disappeared behind the curtain, he went over to file back, when an older stylist gently tapped him on the shoulder.

“You walk _exactly_ like your mom,” the stylist said in an awestruck voice.

The tears were back and he had no time to dry them as the models rushed out again. Applause. Adrien tried to steady himself, almost blubbering between smiles. More applause. Gabriel walked out. Bowed. Gestured at the models and went over to Adrien’s side.

“You’ll have soup when you get home,” Gabriel whispered.

Adrien slid away from his father’s grasp as he attempted to place a hand on his son’s shoulder. But before anyone could notice what happened, the models were beginning to head back. 

“Come on, let’s go,” Gabriel said. 

Adrien apprehensively turned and followed his father backstage.


	23. The Baby Steps

Tiny dots of white light flashed in the darkness. Adrien blinked and turned over with a groan. The light danced, spreading up and across, forcing his eyes open.

The clock on the nightstand read that it was ten thirty am. The bright light stung again and Adrien placed a hand over his eyes as he looked over to see where it came from.

All of the curtains on the lower floor had been drawn back. Plagg was working on the top level, clearly worn out as he gave the red fabric a half-hearted tug. His whiskers perked up as he noticed that Adrien was awake and he spun around and flew over.

“Good morning sunshine! Sleep well? I got you breakfast!” Plagg called out in his most cheery voice. He gestured at the table. On it sat a plate of hot scrambled eggs and toast, a glass of orange juice on the right side, and a folded up napkin on the left with a fork placed neatly on it.

Adrien was still in that overly sleepy stage to even question why _Plagg_ of all beings was being productive for once. Back when he used to go to school, he’d plop the snoozing kwami in his bag as he ran out of the house. Weekends, Adrien had to be the one to get Plagg out of bed so he wouldn’t sleep until noon. Or if Adrien decided to sleep in for once, Plagg would poke and prod him to wake up because he was _hungry_ and if he didn’t have breakfast, he would surely _starve._

“Eat up! Eat up! I made it myself; you like it?” Plagg asked as he watched Adrien take a bite.

“It’s…good,” Adrien personally thought Plagg over salted the eggs. 

“Take as much time as you need. We don’t need to rush just yet,” Plagg said.

“Just yet?”

About an hour later Adrien and Plagg were sitting on a bench at the park close by his home. A group of school- aged children were playing soccer on the far end. Mothers stood in groups of two or three and chatted as they occasionally glanced over at the kids. A man talking on a cellphone crossed the park, pausing for a second to gaze at the fountain in the center. Two elderly men were playing a game of chess at one of the tables. Adrien was only half watching the scene in front of him. He turned at Plagg who was perched on his shoulder. 

“Plagg why are we at the park?” He asked.

“Because it’s a nice day and you need some air! There’s something about sitting outside that’s relaxing isn’t it?” Plagg exclaimed.

Adrien sighed and glanced down at the ground. He kicked up some dirt.

“Hey we gotta start somewhere. Baby steps. It may seem a bit much but trust me. It’ll help.”

Adrien looked up to see a woman helping her small toddler walk over to the fountain. She picked up her squirming child who let out an overjoyed shriek. Little grabby hands reached out to touch the water. The mother laughed. She stared lovingly at her child who was mesmerized by how the water came out of the fountain. Adrien felt his heart sink. His head leaned down again.

“You thinking about your mom?” Plagg whispered.

“Yeah.”

“You miss her?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you miss about her?”

Plagg’s question took Adrien by surprise.

“ _Everything,_ ” he said.

“Everything eh? What’s one of those everythings?”

“I—I miss—I—“Adrien stopped. His hands clenched up on his knees. He closed his eyes.

“It’s ok. Take as much time as you need,” Plagg assured him.

Adrien took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

“I miss hearing her footsteps. I always knew when she was getting close; I knew that clickety-clack-clack her shoes would make anywhere. I’d get excited and run up to her when she was close enough. And she’d give me this big hug and she’d _smile._ God, I miss her smile-- she—she had the most _beautiful_ smile.” Adrien found that the corners of his lips turned up as he remembered.

“Like what you’re doing now?” Plagg pointed.

“I don’t know. Everyone says we look a lot like each other,” Adrien said.

“I think so. Tell me something else about your mom!”

“Like what?” Adrien asked.

“I don’t know, did she take you to the park?”

“She took me to the ones with playgrounds. It was a lot of fun. When I wasn’t running around and playing with other kids, she used to push me on the swings or we’d play catch. I used to wanna go really high, like to the top of the swingset high, and I kept telling her to push me harder. It felt like _flying._ When I was really little and not that heavy, we’d share a swing together. I loved seeing how we’d kick off and push the swing. I’d always try to match up to her because it looked so cool,” Adrien laughed for the first time in a week.

Plagg beamed at him. Adrien’s eyes watered, but he kept on smiling.

“I miss her. I wish—I wish I could just have one more day with her you know,” Adrien said softly.

“I know,” Plagg nodded.

They stayed at the park for some time. When it was time to leave, Adrien turned and asked.

“Will this really help me feel better?”

Plagg paused for a second before answering.

“You’re not going to get better overnight. But if you take it a little at a time, you’ll see a difference.”  
*****************************************************************************************************  
 _Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie Patisserie’s_ shop bell chimed as the door opened. It was just after the morning rush, and most of the morning commuters had already left with their to- go breakfasts in hand. Adrien stopped for a second and sniffed the air. His mouth watered and he sighed as he glanced over the pastries on display. Which one to choose? They all looked delicious! 

His mind made up, Adrien went up to the counter. To his delight and surprise, Marinette came out of the kitchen; dusting off flour from her apron and hands, her pigtails bouncing at her shoulders with each step she took. Her eyes widened as she saw him stand up the counter.

“Hey Marinette!” He waved.

“Oh—hey Adrien! I haven’t seen you in a while,” She greeted him, a little less nervously than she used to.

“I know. What’s up?” He asked.

“Ah, I’ve been busy. Helping out here, helping out there. Also babysitting,” she replied.

“Yeah, I’ve been busy too. I went to Fashion Week last week,” Adrien said.

“I saw! I mean, I saw The Agreste show livestream, you did an incredible job!” she told him.

“Thanks,” he had forgotten that Marinette kept up with fashion. “Did you get to see other shows?”

“Uh, a few. I don’t usually follow menswear, but it’s cool to see what they come up with. Not gonna lie though, I hated the checkerboard and camouflage.”

“I know they’re so _tacky_ My dad was smart enough to not go with checkerboard, but the moment I saw that half of the designs looked like he was gonna drop the models from a plane and parachute them into combat I wanted to _gag._ ” 

They laughed. Adrien glanced up to see that he had his elbows propped on the counter and his face was leaning inches away from hers. He blinked; noticing for the first time how _blue_ her eyes were. She immediately scooted back with a blush, and brushed a stray hair from her forehead.

“So what can I get you?” She asked with a dopey grin.

“A dozen madeleines please,” he said. 

He got out his wallet and took out a twenty- euro bill. He waited as she placed the madeleines in a brown paper bag.

“I didn’t know you helped out in the kitchen,” Adrien said as he paid.

“Yeah—well not usually. I’m just making a little something for a frie---“

“Marinette! The oven just went off!” Came her mother’s voice from the kitchen.

“The _tart!_ Uh, sorry I gotta go take it out. It was great seeing you--bye!” Marinette spun around and dashed to the kitchen. She waved at him just before she went through the door.

He waved back. Even though Marinette already was gone, he gazed at the kitchen door, hoping that she would come out again. He turned and headed towards the door; half thinking about the madeleines he would share with Plagg, and half thinking about Marinette’s eyes.  
*********************************************************************************************************  
“Aw man that’s not fair!” Nino howled as Adrien’s avatar crossed the finish line. 

“You’re playing against a pro, whatdaya expect?” Adrien smirked as he reveled in the _You Win_ glittering in big gold letters on the screen.

“You’re even worse than Max, I don’t even wanna think how you guys would totally annihilate me if you played against me,” Nino laughed.

“Aw come on Nino, you know if we ever played with Max that’d I’d team up with _you_ against him,” Adrien said.

“We’d be unstoppable!” Nino exclaimed.

They high-fived. Adrien picked up the bag of chips lying on Nino’s living room table and took one. Nino had pressed on the game menu and scrolled through the race options.

“Ah it feels so good just to relax and game. Last week was a _killer_ ,” Adrien said.

“Dude. I hate to be _that_ person, but your dad’s an _asshole._ I’m not gonna lie, every single time I’ve met him, he’s acted like a _jerk._ And now that he _made_ you go through that stupid show even though you were sick, that’s just---“ Nino let out a sigh.

“He _tried_ to make it up to me, but yeah, he’s an asshole. If you only knew _half_ of the things I knew,” Adrien trailed off.

“Like what?” Nino asked, curious.

“Promise you won’t tell.”

“I won’t tell a soul,” Nino put a hand over his heart.

“Well,” Adrien thought over something that he could tell Nino. “Remember that photoshoot back in January? That fight I had with my dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Well---I got angry that he told the girl to take her bathing suit top off for a photo. And she didn’t want to.”

Nino’s jaw dropped.

“ **Wh-aat?** ”

“I know. She was like our age.”

Nino suddenly sat up straight.

“Dude, you know he can get into some **serious** shit for that,” Nino said seriously.

“Yeah but, he gets _everything_ to go his way. Lawyers, threats, whatever,” Adrien said.

“Adrien, you don’t think your dad would—you know—he’d go after—“ Nino fumbled for the right words.

“No,” Adrien shook his head. “He’s done many things but I don’t think he’d date an underage girl. I mean, he started dating my mom when she was eighteen, but in the end that didn’t really matter because he cheated on her anyway.”

It slipped from Adrien’s tongue before he realized that he said it. Nino’s face softened. He turned off the tv and put the controller on the table. 

“Oh man, I’m sorry,” Nino whispered.

“It’s it’s--” Adrien couldn’t form the word ‘fine.’ “He cheated on her sometime before she di—disappeared with a younger woman who worked for him. I have no idea if she found out or not, but I think she did,” Adrien stared down at the ground and took a deep breath.

Nino gently placed a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. He gave it a squeeze.

“Sorry, I—I just really needed to let that out,” Adrien apologized.

“It’s ok man I completely understand. Sometimes you just gotta do what you need to do,” Nino replied.  
********************************************************************************************************  
Seeing Ladybug approach him was like looking at her for the first time. Chat Noir had known her for nearly two or so years now, and he still couldn’t get over how _beautiful_ she was. Her raven black hair, bound in pigtails, flowing behind her as she landed on the rooftop, her plump pink lips curling up into a smile to see him waiting there, her melodious voice calling out his name, and her crisp deep blue eyes, so _blue_ and an ocean in itself, gazing right into his. And there she was, in front of him, setting something down so she could throw her arms around him. Chat Noir tightly embraced her back, remembering how much he _missed_ her.

“Hey. How are you doing?” She asked softly. 

“I’ve been better. But I’m trying,” he admitted.

Ladybug pulled back. She bent down and picked up a white box with a red ribbon tied on the front.

“I made you—well I tried my best, I don’t bake often—I made you a little something,” she handed him the box.

Chat Noir opened it. Inside was a strawberry tart. He picked up a flaky buttery scent along with _crème anglaise_ that he figured was the filling inside. His mouth watered.

“You _made_ this?” He asked.

“Yeah, today actually,” Ladybug answered a little bit shyly.

"It looks _amazing!_ And delicious too! Thank you so much!” Chat Noir exclaimed. 

“I figured you needed a little pick me up,” she said with a smile. 

He stared down at the tart again.

“Even though I’m a growing boy, I don’t think I could finish this tart myself,” he chuckled, feeling his old sense of humor coming back little by little. “Wanna share it? You do deserve to try your own creation.”

“Definitely, but we don’t have any forks, or spoons, knives.”

“I could use my claws to cut in,” he held his free hand up.

“Chat!” She laughed.

As they sat down, Chat Noir gazed once more into her eyes. They made him feel calm, at peace, loved. And maybe it was that he had missed her a bit too much, but Chat Noir couldn’t help but feel that he had crossed paths with Ladybug earlier that day. That shade of _blue_ was something he could not easily forget.


	24. The Apology

Unfortunately dinner would have to wait.

A tired Nathalie had just sat down at the kitchen table when the doorbell rang. With a groan, she got up and headed to the door. She was _starving_ and she had taken advantage of the fact that she got home early from work to _actually_ cook instead of going after the leftovers in the fridge. She glanced back at the table: her mouth watering from the fruity smell of the balsamic dressing on the salad, and the steam from the pan seared chicken filet. The glass of white wine sparkled under the kitchen light, begging her to come back, unwind, and _drain_ it. Wishing at least she could have taken the glass, Nathalie opened the door just a crack to see who it was.

It was Adrien. She saw him step back as he gazed up right into her eyes. His hands went behind his back and he widened his stance a bit as he nervously began:

“Nathalie. I want to apologize for how I acted the last time I saw you. I was angry, but that doesn’t excuse what I said to you. I know that he—he really screwed us over, and you’re—you’re hurting as much as I am.”

She opened the door all the way.

“Come inside,” she motioned to him. 

Adrien followed her to the kitchen table and they both sat down. There was an awkward pause before Nathalie piped up:

“Do you want some wine?” 

He shook his head. She picked up her glass and took a sip before speaking.

“You can hate me all you want Adrien. I ruined your parents’ marriage. I helped move your mom’s body. I’m not asking for forgiveness; I know that I’m beyond forgiving. All I want for you is to _understand._ ”

“What happened that night?” He asked.

“I got a call at around 1:00 clock in the morning. He told me to come quickly, that it was an emergency. He was scared, it made _me_ scared. So I went…and he’s—he’s fidgety, acting erratically, and his eyes were so _red._ ”

“You think he was coked out?”

“I don’t think so. Whatever he was on that night was _stronger_ than any drug I’ve ever seen in my life. I ask him what’s going on, and that’s when I see that there are little golden shards all over the pavement, and by the front door there was a dead cat.”

She saw that Adrien was trying to stay calm. She wished she could reach out and touch his hand, but knew that he was just beginning to trust her again. She couldn’t overstep her boundaries.

“I then ask him what he took and he denies taking anything. I figured it was up in the study. He tries to stop me but I get the door open and your mother was lying in the middle of the room. It was---Oh _god_ Adrien it was the most **horrific** thing I’ve ever **seen.** ”

The images she long tried to suppress flashed in her mind. Trying to compose herself, she forced herself to look at Adrien.

“Go on. Tell me what was in inside,” Adrien softly said.

“You don’t---“

“I need to know what he _did_ to her.”

Nathalie took a deep breath. Her nose crinkled up, her heart began to pound, and a chill ran down her spine. She felt like she had entered the study for the first time again. Her teeth chattered. She spat her words out.

“There was **blood** all over the room and it pooled up all around her. She was on her back with her head tilted to the side because her neck had been **snapped.** There were fingernail marks all **over.** ”

Her eyes bulged and watered. A hand went over her mouth as a gasp escaped her throat. Her eyes squeezed tight. She removed her hand to wipe the tears away with her knuckles.

“And then he called La Camarde right?” Adrien tried to keep his voice even, but it wavered.

“I- I never knew his name, but your father was told to meet him on the outskirts of town. I helped get rid of the evidence. We—we put the bodies in my car. I wrote the ransom note and made it as sloppy as I could so no one would recognize the handwriting. And then—we left. I drove. We didn’t talk. And we came to a wooded area and they met. He handed over the money and they took out the bodies. They went into the woods and came back a while later. They talked about burning the bodies---I don’t know what they did in the end. I didn’t want to know.”

Nathalie picked up her wine glass with a sigh. She gulped down half the glass before gazing up at Adrien again.

“When we got back, he asked me to stay with him,” she said flatly.

“Did you?”

“I did. I left in the morning,” she swished around the remaining wine in the glass.

The room was quiet again. Nathalie refilled her glass. Adrien wore a blank expression upon his face; yet he intensely gazed at her as he took in her words. Finally, he got to his feet.

“Thank you. I’ll—I’ll leave now,” he said.

She nodded, and watched him turn and head towards the door.  
*****************************************************************  
Nathalie’s cell rang during the middle of her afternoon break. She picked it up from her desk, and swiped to answer. She swore that the number looked familiar but paid little attention to it.

“Hello?” 

“Nathalie?” Came a male, teenage voice. 

She sat up straight in her chair. She kicked her leg and scooted in closer to her desk.

“Adrien? I didn’t expect to hear from you,” she said, surprised.

“I know you’re at work now so I won’t keep you long. I need help.”

“ _My_ help?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I think it would be good for the both of us.”

“What would I be helping you with?” She asked.

Adrien’s voice came out as a whisper:

“There’s something you should know about my father. He’s not only a corrupt coke user who murdered his wife. He’s also **Hawkmoth.** ”


	25. The Plan

Tuesday evening, Nathalie felt like she had never left the office.

Adrien had described the meeting place as a secret hideout, yet Nathalie wondered where the secrecy was as she walked through the revolving doors of an important company. She expected something like a warehouse, an abandoned apartment building, a hidden cottage out in the woods, not something so _open_ and _bustling_ with people. 

He was waiting for her in the lobby on one of the couches. He glanced up and waved. She hurried towards him, an ‘a’ buzzing in her throat until she noticed that his hand was gloved and a green light shone from his ring finger.

“Chat Noir!” She corrected herself just in time. Luckily for the both of them, no one else noticed or cared that one of Paris’ superheroes was in the lobby.

“Hey there Nathalie,” Adrien stood up. He awkwardly held his hand out towards her. She took it and shook, noticing that his handshake was not as strong as his father’s. 

“We’re up on the tenth floor,” he said.

She followed him to the elevators and they got inside. Chat Noir pushed the floor button and eased back into the corner, arms crossed, with one leg back against the wall. She stiffly stood at the other end, clinging to her purse. The elevator moved slowly, stopping on the second, fourth, and fifth floors. People got on and got off.

“How did you get your own office?” She broke the silence. 

“It was really easy. We asked the mayor if we could have some space. It really comes in handy,” he told her. 

After five stops, they arrived on the tenth floor. Down the hallway and to the left and Nathalie was standing face to face with a golden plaque that read: _Ladybug & Chat Noir._ He opened it.

“My lady!” He excitedly exclaimed as he saw Ladybug.

Adrien had a skip in his step as he approached Paris’ most famous superhero. Nathalie couldn’t help but notice the way he leaned in close to Ladybug as they said their ‘hi’s’ and ‘what’s ups?’ A hand absentmindedly went to the back of his head and a dopey grin spread across his face as he giggled at something she said.

_He likes her_ Nathalie fought back a chuckle as she stepped inside the room.

Chat Noir glanced back and beckoned Nathalie over.

“Nathalie this is Ladybug,” he introduced her.

“Chat’s told me a lot about you,” the girl cheerfully said as she extended her hand.

“Thanks. Nice to meet you,” Nathalie replied with a smile. 

Ladybug pulled up a chair for Nathalie and took her place behind the desk. Chat Noir closed the door and joined them. He sat down next to Nathalie.

“So what’s going on?” Ladybug asked.

“You know that I’ve been helping Nathalie a lot lately right?”

“Yeah. And?”

“Well she told me some stuff, and—um—um---“ Chat Noir spoke too soon and lost his train of thought.

“I used to work for Hawkmoth,” Nathalie cut to the chase.

“ _What?_ ” Ladybug was flabbergasted. “How are you even still _alive?_ Who _is_ he? You—you didn’t help carry out his plans _did_ you?”

“No, I was his personal assistant; much more boring. I didn’t even know that he was Hawkmoth until Chat Noir told me.”

_Boring? Exciting in a sick way was more like it when I slept with him._ Nathalie thought, grateful that Ladybug wasn’t like others who would immediately jump to _that_ conclusion.

Letting go of Gabriel hadn’t been easy. At first, five years ago, and now, she felt relief when the obvious burdens were dropped from her shoulders. The guilt subsided. It was easier to go about her job without getting orders from him every five seconds. She could do without him acting _stuck-up_ and _self-absorbed_ almost _half_ of the time she saw him. She certainly didn’t miss how _bad_ his mood swings would get, even though he _never_ took them out on her. But the _little things_ would start to _creep_ up on her and that was when she _missed_ him. Passing an advertisement for the Agreste brand out on the street, and quickly stepping up the pace to avoid it. Coming across a dress he had given her, tucked away in the back of her closet. Remembering how he would whisper to her; his voice, low and seductive, his lips grazing against her ear as he leaned in, dangerous in itself for it led to even _more_ memories, and it was _so_ tempting to _give in_ to them, like that other night, where she felt _disappointed_ and even _disgusted_ at herself for ma----

Why was she dwelling on something like _this?_ It wasn’t the time nor the place. And especially since his _son_ was sitting right next to her. Nathalie stiffened her posture and looked over at Ladybug. She folded her hands together and waited for her to speak.

“So who is Hawkmoth?” Ladybug asked.

“He’s---a very famous man. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it myself since he’s _so_ well known, and I wouldn’t even think he had _time_ for an evil double life. You know anything about fashion?”

“Are you kidding me? I _love_ fashion! I mean clothes were like my first love, and it got me into creating my own stuff. I wanna become a designer one day. I’m not sure how that’s gonna work out since I’m _Ladybug_ and all but I’ll see,” Ladybug exclaimed. 

“I didn’t know you liked fashion,” Chat Noir was surprised.

“Any designers you like?” Nathalie braced herself for the answers, knowing that anyone who was French would have Gabriel in the top five.

“Let’s see…ah this is a hard choice. Are you asking for designers who are still around or---“

“Current ones,” Nathalie answered.

“Well, Gabriel Agreste is my favorite---“

Nathalie saw Ladybug stop mid sentence. She couldn’t tell if her own expression had gotten more serious, but Ladybug’s mouth gaped open as she sat back.

“ _No_ How is that even _possible?_ ” She breathed.

“He must have obtained a Miraculous somehow,” Chat Noir said.

Although Nathalie’s knowledge of the superhero- powered objects was slim, she was able to connect the dots to realize that Marie’s old necklace that Gabriel later turned into a brooch _was_ one. And whatever happened that fateful night that made Gabriel kill Marie, must have involved it. 

“I-I know Gabriel’s son! He probably has _no_ idea what his dad is doing! We have to let him know _right away_ that he’s in _terrible_ danger!” Ladybug said in a worried tone. 

“I’ve already taken care of that,” Nathalie said with a knowing smile as she glanced over at Chat Noir who shot her the same grin.

“Well there’s—there’s more. Gabriel Agreste also has a bad drug problem, which is why Nathalie came to me in the first place,” Chat Noir said.

Ladybug paused again and thought. She looked over at Chat Noir and mouthed something at him. Nathalie couldn’t tell what she was saying except for that the word began with the letter ‘m’. Chat Noir gave her a nod. Nathalie wondered what it meant, besides the obvious: that a drug problem would probably make him much more _violent_ and _reckless_ than most people. Not sure if she should add something to the conversation, she waited until Ladybug piped up again:

“You haven’t noticed anything else off about Gabriel, right Nathalie?” Ladybug asked. 

“No.”

“Ok,” Nathalie could tell that Ladybug was still trying to process the shocking news. Paris’ most famous hero sighed.

“Well what are we gonna do? We can’t go after him as _Gabriel._ The media will get involved, and we can’t hurt his family either; showing up at his door is a no go. Then that means we have to find out _where_ he goes whenever he turns into Hawkmoth. But that’s opening a _whole new can of worms._ We know so _much_ yet so _little_ about him.”

“Don’t give up hope just yet My Lady, that’s why I bought Nathalie here,” Chat Noir said. 

“But what can _I_ do?” Nathalie doubtfully asked.

“You were his assistant there must be _something_ he told you that no one else would know,” Chat Noir pointed out. 

Gabriel was an incredibly secretive man. He wasn’t one to let people come close to him and those who did only knew what _he_ wanted them to hear. Nathalie knew because _she_ was one of those secrets. But perhaps it was to her _advantage._ She had been his _assistant_ as well as his _mistress._ She dealt firsthand with the praise, complaints, solutions, and problems people dumped on her because they couldn’t reach _him._ And thanks to those pleas for impromptu meetings, answering phone calls, going through emails, files and letters, she had access to top notch secrets about the Agreste line as well as the famous man himself. She was able to piece together the different viewpoints, information, opinions, and get the _full_ picture everyone else _missed._

“Well,” Nathalie started after thinking it over. “Come to think of it, last year we moved storage; mostly old designs and fabric, to different warehouses. I’m pretty sure that there’s one or two that were completely emptied. Gabriel could be using one of them. I used to get emails all the time; it shouldn’t be too hard to look up which warehouses they were.” 

“That’s a start!” Ladybug said with a smile.

“Great!” Chat Noir exclaimed. “So how you look it up, and we meet same time next week to continue our plans?”

This time Nathalie was confident in her answer.

“I don’t need a week to look at old emails. Give me _three days_ and I’ll get back to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I've been, and will still be very busy with work, but I promise I'll try to give you guys regular updates the best I can.


	26. The Villain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This is a Gabriel chapter. Make of that what you will._

_She's decent enough_

Gabriel was still getting his bearings as he moved his chair in. He first reached for his glasses, put them on, then leaned over for the tissue box on the left hand side. It wasn't in its right place. With a sigh, he glanced up and over to the right to see that it was on the corner of the desk. The neatly piled up tissues that he had so **carefully** managed to keep **organized** were now in a state of **disarray:** corners were torn, giant clumps settled at the bottom, and one solitary tissue lay flat beside the box. The model was leaning against the desk. She frantically scrubbed the tissue against her shirt and little papery bits broke off each time she applied more friction.

"It's not coming **out!** " She crumpled up the tissue and threw it into the wastebasket. She reached for another tissue and began the same process. He watched her with an elbow propped up on the desk and a hand against his cheek, his eyes on the tissue box. 

"Then why don't you wash it out in the women's?" He asked, not even trying to hide the fact that he was annoyed.

"I can't go out like **this** like what if--" The model started. 

"No one is going to see you," he abruptly interrupted her as he adjusted his glasses..

"But like what if they talk you know, like, you wouldn't believe like, half of the things the other girls say--"

"People come into my office all the time. You're not the _first,_ " He rubbed his temples, hoping that her **blabbering** wouldn't end up giving him a **migraine.** She had been going **on** and **on** about the **stupidest** of things from the moment she set foot in his office. He had been tempted several times to scream at her to **shut up** and **get** to it already, but he kept his cool. They were _both_ exchanging _favors_ after all and things had to be _cordial_ between the two parties involved.

_God, why can't she just **leave?**_

For a second the model became quiet. Then she opened her mouth once more.

"Like do you have a scarf or something to cover this up?" She gestured at her shirt. 

_Oh my god why won't this **bitch** just fucking **leave?**_

“I’ve already arranged everything for you to be on the cover. You should be getting a call this weekend about when to come in for the shoot from my secretary,” Gabriel avoided her question.  


"Oh ok," it was enough to distract her. She grabbed a tissue from the box and dabbed one last time on her shirt. She picked up her leather _Coach_ purse from the extra chair and swung it over her shoulder. With a sway of her hips, she started towards the door and quietly closed it behind her. 

Gabriel let out a sigh of relief once he was sure she was gone. He glanced over at the mess and picked up the tissue box. He put his hand inside and groaned. 

_Dammit she took the last **one** _  


**********************************************************************************  


Gabriel shook his hand after setting the pencil down. He curled his long thin fingers inward and back again. The pain wasn't so bad today; he made sure to set aside time for breaks. But even with breaks, the pain was getting worse by day. If he had a way to just meet up with his younger self and scream at him to _not_ sketch for hours on end because he was damn sure that if it wasn't just him getting _old_ (well he was in good shape but he had to accept that the inevitable was happening) that it was _arthritis_ and it was thanks to his _moronic_ younger self that he was _suffering._

_Maybe if I do a line tonight the pain will go away._

He picked up the design and looked at it before setting back down again. It was good; the croquis was in the runway pose, the shirt hung nicely on the frame, and the skirt's flare was just _perfect._ He reached over for the box of colored pencils and took one out. 

Purple.

The pencil weighed down his hand. He tried to keep his gaze focused on the paper but found that it lingered back to the body of the deep violet pencil.

_Purple._

Everything was _purple._

He'd wake at dawn to see that streaks of purple clouded the sky. The day passed, surrounded by shades of purple, as he sketched, passed, inspected, and consulted about the creations he would bring or brought to life. Sometimes he would sneak out, clutching the lilac brooch with the being who had _ruined_ his life and _cursed_ it, to don a suit of silk and lavender so he could _curse_ others into feeling the same misery _he_ did and gain some _control_ back into his life. Why not let the world _fall_ before him? They should all _suffer._ And it would be late when he finally _let_ himself sleep. All his dreams were in shades of violet, and all of them he would see her, _Marie_ in all her beauty, just as lovely as he first saw her all those years ago. 

_Marie._

Not a day passed that Marie slipped his mind. He was good at keeping his thoughts at bay, masking them with a cold exterior that made no one suspect that anything about him was abnormal. It had worked for almost five years now just as it worked for _all_ his other problems in his life. But slowly, during this time of the year, his thoughts started to _overwhelm_ him and _cracks_ started to show in his facade. He **missed** her. He **loved** her. He wished and wished that all that had **happened** could just be **erased** and **rewritten** and they could continue on with their lives together; even with her stubbornness, and his perfectionism, and the fights, because they **balanced each other,** they'd be **happy** and they loved each other like **crazy** and although other women came and went in his life there was **no one** like **her.**

 **Marie.**

If he could see her just one more time, he wouldn't know what to say. He could tell her that he was sorry, that he loved her, missed her, but there didn't seem to be enough words to describe the **guilt,** the **heartache,** and **loneliness** that he lived with each day, every day, in shades of purple, her absolute favorite color in the whole wide world.

Gabriel set down the purple pencil. With a slight inhale he reached back into the box and forced himself to choose another color. 

*********************************************************************************************************************************** 

He had only just reached the study but knew that something was not quite right as he gazed over at the opposite end of the corridor. With his briefcase still in hand, he briskly made his way down the hall and stopped in front of the many white doors in the house. It was then that he set it down and moved in. Gabriel's hand went to the knob and tested it. The door was open and gave easily. He peeked inside. 

Adrien's room was empty.

He closed the door. In one motion he picked up the briefcase and turned. The sound of footsteps reached his ears and he looked up to see Charlene, one of the women who worked in housekeeping, make her way up the stairs with a giant laundry basket in tow.

"Where's Adrien?" He called out to her. 

"He's out," she replied.

 _Fencing lessons ended two hours ago there's no excuse for him to **still** be out_

"Where is he?" Gabriel kept his tone as even as he could.

"At a friend's." 

_**Again?**_

_"Which_ friend?" Gabriel questioned. 

"Nino?" Charlene was unsure. 

_Jesus Christ, can't **anyone** keep track of what goes on in this house?_

"Well when he gets back, _tell_ him that he's not allowed to go off and see his friends after _five._ I _expect_ him to be home in time for _dinner_ when I get home at seven. He's been doing this for a _week_ straight and it is _completely_ **unacceptable.** " 

"Yes sir," she responded with a nod and continued her way down the hall. 

_She's going to forget or something isn't she? God, why are they so **soft** on him? _

With a sigh, he went into his study. He sat down at the computer and opened up his email. 

_What is **with** Adrien? He's been doing this since fashion week. It's almost as if he's trying to **avoid** me. _

Gabriel logged in and clicked on his inbox. No new messages. He exited out and opened three tabs; one for facebook, the other for twitter, and the last one for the news. 

_Doesn't he realize dinner is the only time I can **see** him? _

He first clicked on facebook and looked up Adrien's profile. It had not been updated since the end of fashion week when Gabriel told Adrien to upload the runway photos. After glancing over new comments left on the photos,(most of them from fashion fanatics or lovestruck teenage girls) Gabriel exited out and clicked on twitter. It also had been last updated two weeks before. Gabriel couldn't understand it; Adrien _loved_ these confounded social media sites. (For his purposes, he left that to his marketing team) He remembered that back when Adrien was thirteen, the boy literally _begged_ him, each _day,_ for six months _straight_ , to just get a _facebook._ Adrien usually updated his sites at least three times a week if he wasn't busy (Gabriel knew, he checked every single day) And almost always during the summer months there would be a _spike_ in the number of pictures, posts, tweets, and whatever else he did on facebook and twitter. What could _possibly_ be going on? 

Gabriel closed the two tabs and went to the third. Adrien was the _epitome_ of a straightedged human being. It was more than the fact that he had been brought up to be polite and demure, for crying out loud this was the same boy who believed that santa claus and the tooth mouse were real until he was _nine._ Even now at fifteen, Adrien was so _naive_ and _innocent_ compared to other kids his age. Not once had Gabriel _ever_ heard him _swear._ If someone made a crude comment that _didn't_ go over his head, his whole _face_ would go _red._ Older models offered him cigarettes like if it was candy, and he always _refused._ At afterparties where no one checked IDs, waiters would thrust glasses of wine or champagne into his hand and Adrien would not even take a _sip._ Girls fell at his _feet_ yet Adrien made no _move_ to go farther than a smile and hello. If it weren't for the fact that Adrien obviously crushing hard on _Ladybug_ Gabriel could have sworn that his son was either _gay_ or had _no_ sex drive at _all._

_If he's not partying or sneaking out to see girls then what is he **doing?**_

Gabriel scrolled down the pages and glanced at the headlines. 

**BREAKING NEWS: LADYBUG AND CHAT NOIR SAVE THE DAY AGAIN**

Gabriel's hand clenched over the computer mouse as he looked at the photo that went along with the article. His eyes lingered on the slim, medium build of the catlike superhero,his wide toothy grin, fluffy blond hair that fell in waves and stuck up at the sides just like his son's, and emerald green eyes that excitedly lit up for the camera's flash, making Gabriel's heart sink as he thought about how Marie used to look at the world with that exact same gaze, and how Adrien did the same.

He still did not want to believe the truth even though it was staring him right in the **eye.**

******************************************************************************************************************* 

"Oh look at this. Some **decency** for a change; you're kind enough to **feed** me," the kwami piped up from the bottom of the nightstand drawer.

Gabriel said nothing as he picked up the brooch and set it on top of the nightstand table. His hand twitched in pain as he set the Miraculous down. His glance shot towards the little plastic bag that sat only inches away.

"You think you can just keep me **locked up** in here and **starve** me Gabriel? Only take me out when you want to to take that Miraculous for a **spin?** " Moria spat at him.

Gabriel's trembling hands started to open the bag. His heart started to race. His senses sharpened even though he had not yet made contact with the white powder inside. He sniffed.

"Do you think I'm something to be **used?** Just like every single **living being** that happens to come across your way?" 

One pinch inside and he could _feel_ the blood _rush_ through his veins. One drop, and it fell gently onto the wooden surface of the table like a snowflake. He sniffed. His hands had become numb; his motions slow yet delicate; half wanting to quicken the pace, half wanting to _savor_ this _anticipation_ for what would _overcome_ him.

" **Answer** me **goddammit!** " Moira's shout broke him from his trance. 

In a flash Gabriel's hand recoiled. He turned, looming over Moira and shouted as loud as he would let himself: 

"I'm doing you a **favor!** Do you even know how much a kilo **costs?** You should be **grateful** that I still **care!** "

Moria glared at him before turning towards the dusty white line on the table. Her eyes fixed on it as she cooly responded:

"Then you have a funny way of showing it." 

That settled it. With a nod, Gabriel accepted her comment. He deeply inhaled as his long thin fingers reached for his credit card. 

_Chop_

_Chop_

_Chop_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Fun fact! This is officially the longest fanfic I have ever written_


	27. The Night Before

Chat Noir slowly picked up the layout sketch of the warehouse from the desk and took one last, careful, glance at it. He skimmed over the annotations that they had added thanks to Nathalie’s investigations and stored the paper in the top drawer. He looked up to see that the coffee cake that Ladybug brought for the meeting had already been cut into. Ladybug and Nathalie were already working on the cake and both had steaming cups of hot chocolate and coffee to go along with their slices.

“You got to go to Milan? That’s so cool!” Ladybug animatedly said. She leaned forward in her seat to listen better to Nathalie.

“I went to their summer shows for two years straight,” Nathalie responded with a smile. Although she sat stiffly in her seat, Chat Noir could tell that she felt at ease with Ladybug.

The nerves jumbled about inside him again. A hand shot to his stomach along with a twinge of jealousy. Here they were the night before the big day, and Ladybug and Nathalie were eating their cake and acting as if they didn’t have a care in the world. It wasn’t like they would be facing Hawkmoth _himself_ in their own home. That they would have to _sit_ with him for a whole hour and _pretend_ that everything was fine, that they _didn’t_ know about secrets that could _tear_ their family _apart,_ and it was because of _that_ , that they would face him the _next day_ and wonder how _bad_ the fight would get, and if one of them would end up _hurting_ the other.

The anxiety had kicked in a few days earlier when the three of them agreed to meet up one last time before they would strike Hawkmoth’s lair. When the thoughts didn’t swirl about his head, Chat Noir found that his stomach twisted into knots too much to allow food to settle properly. Sometimes he would have to _force_ himself to eat so that he would still have energy to keep on going. It was that, and the fact that he didn’t feel that he was going through it _alone_ that kept the worst of the nerves from overwhelming him.

His mouth watered as he glanced once more at the box of cake. As much as he wanted to take a slice, he knew that he couldn’t eat before dinner.

“Take one,” Ladybug gestured at the box.

“I’m having dinner soon,” Chat Noir said.

“So am I but hey, what my parents don’t know won’t hurt them,” Ladybug chuckled. “At least take a piece home. The cake’s really good. You’d like it.”

“You can take the whole thing if you like, if I take it I’d probably eat it in one sitting,” Nathalie added.

Chat Noir leaned over and picked up the box. He glanced at the cursive writing on the top:

_Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie_

“Ah, the parents of a girl I used to go to school with run that bakery! They make really good cookies,” he remarked.

“Oh really? I---live by there,” it seemed like Ladybug was taken off guard by Chat Noir’s comment.

“Oh cool! Where?”

Ladybug stopped. She nervously glanced off to the side as she answered:

“Uh next door—the same block!”

Nathalie glanced up and over at Ladybug. Her eyes squinted as she gazed over at the box. Her lips pursed, and she looked up at Chat Noir, then back at Ladybug. Lost in thought, she prodded her fork into the last bit of cake on her plate and shrugged before taking a bite.

“Oh gosh, ah—I gotta be home by seven. Um I’ll see you tomorrow?” Chat Noir asked even though he knew the answer.

“Yeah. I’ll meet you here. Get a good night’s sleep ok?” Ladybug smiled up at him.

“Kay,” he balanced the box on his left arm and held his free arm out as if to give Ladybug a hug, but stopped in his tracks as he felt Nathalie’s eyes watching them. He self -consciously laughed with a quick wave and turned. Half embarrassed and half frustrated at himself, he began to walk fast, hoping that no one suspected that something was wrong. Quieter footsteps came from behind.

“Chat Noir?”

He didn’t turn around. He knew it was Nathalie. She came by his side and they both started down the hall together.

“Are you doing ok?” She asked him.

“Ok,” Chat Noir mildly said with a shrug. He knew that she wouldn’t buy it, and also knew that she wouldn’t press unless he spoke up.

They reached the elevator and Nathalie pressed the button for the lobby. Within seconds, the doors opened and they stepped inside. The car was empty. They were both quiet until Chat Noir piped up as they reached the fifth floor:

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Nathalie said.

“My father—was he good to you?” Chat Noir asked.

“Good to me?” Nathalie repeated. “He was decent enough.”

“Did he show you he cared?”

“Sometimes,” Nathalie addressed the button panel.

The elevator stopped and opened its doors. An empty hallway faced them. Five seconds passed before the doors closed again and the elevator moved.

“Did you love him?”

“No. I didn’t.” Nathalie glanced over at him.

“Did he love you?” 

“No. He loved your mother, but not enough.”

With a deep breath, Chat Noir closed his eyes and reopened them.

“Does he love me?”

Nathalie turned. Her stoic expression softened and a hand reached out to touch Chat Noir’s shoulder.

“Why _wouldn’t_ he?” She whispered.

With a final ding, the elevator reached the lobby. Nathalie pulled her hand away and slowly walked out. Chat Noir followed her until they reached the revolving doors.

“Thanks. That’s all I needed to know,” Chat Noir nodded.

Nathalie blinked. It looked like as if she wanted to say something else but decided against it last second as she fumbled about with her purse. With a quick turn and a wave, she left.

****************************************** 

Adrien had five minutes to make himself look presentable before heading down to dinner. He splashed water on his face and slicked back his slightly greasy hair. A quick glance in the bathroom mirror and then he rushed over to the closet to find a decent polo and a pair of oxfords that would go well with his jeans. After throwing them on, Adrien skidded across the floor and briskly strutted out the door and into the hallway. His footsteps slowed as he reached the stairs. The nerves jumbled inside. An unsteady hand brushed back a loose strand of hair that fell on his forehead. Adrien stopped before he made contact with the ground. His hand gripped the railing and he closed his eyes. He inhaled; feeling the nerves rattle one last time in his chest and sink down his stomach. He exhaled: pushing his thoughts to the back of his head, trying to make his mind go blank, to forget about _everything_ for the next hour. When he felt calm enough, he continued on to the dining room, where Gabriel was waiting for him, sitting at the end of the long table.

“You’re on time,” Gabriel was surprised.

“I wouldn’t forget something like this. You taught me stuff like that is important,” Adrien pulled the chair out from the opposite end and sat down.

The chef came out with two plates of an arugula and mushroom salad, dressed with an oil and Parmesan cheese, and set them out before father and son. His helper followed with a bottle of red wine, filling up the glasses halfway. As soon as they left, Gabriel raised his glass.

“Cheers?” It came out as a question.

“Cheers,” Adrien answered.

Gabriel took a sip. Adrien held his glass close to his nose and slightly tilted it. His nose twitched as the overpowering fruity aroma brushed against his nostrils. He pretended to drink and set his glass back down. He picked up his fork and prodded an arugula leaf on his plate.

“How was your day?”

Adrien slowly chewed. The salty taste of the Parmesan cheese stuck out against the smoothness of the olive oil. Normally, Adrien would be savoring the flavors on his tongue, but the churning in his stomach made it hard for him to enjoy his salad. He quickly swallowed and picked up another leaf with his fork.

“Good. And you?” He answered.

“My day was busy. I was in a meeting,” Gabriel responded.

“Oh I didn’t do much today. I went to the bakery where I got the cake for mom’s birthday and got a coffee cake.”

“Adrien you know you shouldn’t eat too many sweets. You might have a high metabolism now, but once you hit a certain age all that sugar will catch up to you,” Gabriel curtly said. 

“I won’t eat _too_ much. I was thinking that we could share it.”

It was out of his mouth before he could process it. Adrien felt his body tense up and goosebumps prickle his skin. His grip on the fork loosened and it began to slide out of his hand. The thought that had been haunting him for the past couple of weeks broke the silence in his head:

_I’d rather **starve** out in the streets then spend another day under the same roof as **him.** _

“Thank you but I’m not in the mood for cake.”

Adrien sighed in relief. He clutched his fork and ate the last piece of salad on his plate. The pain in his stomach wasn’t as bad as before. He hoped that it would go away.

The chef and his helper came out and cleared the plates from the table. In their place, two steaming plates of _coq au vin_ were set in front of Adrien and Gabriel. They both began to eat. Adrien’s eyes followed Gabriel’s hands as he picked up his dinner knife and fork. They widened as Gabriel prodded the prongs of his fork into his piece of chicken. He brought down the knife, delicately cutting away at the meat, tearing the skin on top as he broke off a bite sized piece. Gabriel’s lips parted as he brought his fork up at his mouth. His teeth sunk in and ripped the chicken from the fork. He closed his mouth, chewed, and swallowed before mechanically moving his knife and fork back to his chicken again.

Adrien’s stomach twisted. He sharply inhaled. His fork dropped with a clang onto his plate. His hand shot towards his stomach and Adrien squeezed his eyes tight as Nathalie’s words echoed in his ears:

_There was **blood** all over the room _

The images were just beginning to form in his mind. He could see the study, shrouded in darkness, the lights just beginning to flicker on and reveal the horror inside. Adrien’s hand clutched his stomach. His eyes watered as he forced himself to take a deep breath. He exhaled and opened his eyes again.

“I’m sorry—I---my stomach hurts,” Adrien mumbled.

“You’re not coming down with some sort of a _bug_ are you?” Gabriel asked, concerned. 

“Yeah, I’ve been feeling crummy all day. May I finish my dinner up in my room?”

_He has to say yes. **Please** say yes _

“Go. I’ll tell them to bring it up for you,” Gabriel said with a wave of his hand.

Adrien got to his feet, still surprised that his father cared. His whole body felt heavy as he forced himself to gaze up at his father one last time.

“Goodnight,” his voice cracked.

Gabriel’s cold blue eyes suddenly had a hint of warmth in them as he returned the gaze.

“Goodnight. Feel better.”

Adrien’s stomach wasn’t hurting anymore as he left the dining room and dashed to the stairs. It was his eyes. They stung and stung as his tears pooled over and burned his cheeks.

*****************************************

Adrien scraped his fork against the plate as he picked up the last piece of chicken. He stuck his fork in his mouth and chewed. He glanced over at Plagg who was nibbling on his piece. Adrien set his fork down and pushed his plate back. He stared down at his desk with a forlorn look.

“Whatcha thinking about this time?” Plagg cut to the chase.

“Do you think I could do it? Fight him?” Adrien addressed the desk.

Plagg thought hard over Adrien’s question.

“You know you’ve come this far,” was his answer.

“Sometimes I really want to **hurt** him. I want to—to **scream** at him and **punch** him, and beat him down to the ground until he can’t get **back** up and is pleading for me to **stop.** I want to show him how he’s hurt **everyone.** My mother, me, Nathalie, Ladybug, everyone he’s akumatized, everyone in Paris! But deep down I know I don’t **want to!** I feel so **sick** just thinking about laying a **hand** on him. I don’t wanna hurt **anyone** even people who **deserve** it! He’s my **dad** Plagg; I **love** him but I also **hate** him so much!”

Adrien’s voice cracked on the last word. He shuddered as he lifted his head up and glanced at Plagg with a torn look. Plagg flew over to Adrien and placed his paw on his cheek.

“It’s **ok** to hate him. You’re **angry** you’re **scared** and you feel like your whole world has been **shattered** over what he’s **done.** It’s ok to think that you’ll **never** forgive him because there are things that you just can’t **forgive.** But Adrien, I’m going to tell you that it’s ok if you still **love** him. It doesn’t mean that you’re going to forget everything and go on as if life was normal because you and I both know you **can’t** go back to how things were. But what you can **do** with that love is to **reach** him and **stop** him before he gets **worse.** Because you know he’s not just any supervillain of the week; he’s someone with thoughts and feelings just like **you.** Adrien I’m telling you right now, what I think you should do is to **not** let your hate or love for your dad overwhelm you. **Work** with them to get the job done, but don’t let one or the other **take over** you in the fight. I don’t wanna think about the consequences if you or Hawkmoth end up **dead** because of them.”

“Plagg I don’t **wanna** kill anyone!” Adrien blubbered with a hiccup.

“And that’s what I **like** about you; you wouldn’t hurt a **fly!** ” Plagg attempted to comfort Adrien by patting his cheek. “You have so much **good** in you. You’re **compassionate,** you’re **caring,** **loyal,** **strong,** **brave.** If anything, you’re **my** hero, not because you’re Chat Noir, or save Paris from certain doom every other day, but just because you’re **you.** Please don’t forget that. _Ok?_ ”

Plagg’s voice trembled as he gazed up at Adrien with watery eyes. Adrien reached out and placed two of his fingers on Plagg’s back. He pulled him into a tight embrace and the two of them cried together.


	28. The Battle Part 1

There was no turning back now.

Chat Noir felt numb as he and Ladybug glanced up at the warehouse. It loomed high above them: its bleach white walls almost blinding in his eye’s view as the sunlight scorched it. A determined look crossed his face as he turned towards Ladybug. She offered her hand to him and he took it. Together, they entered the building.

It was pitch black inside. Chat Noir’s eyes twitched as he adjusted to the change in the light. As soon as his nightvision kicked in, he glanced about to find the staircase straight ahead. His free hand reached out and took hold of the railing. His fingers curled over the circular shaped newel cap before extending out. His hand slid up the railing, feeling cool marble underneath and two thick black lines that ran parallel to each other at the ends. His right foot arched on the bottom step before touching ground. He and Ladybug started to go up.

One, two. He kept his eyes forward, not looking back at Ladybug and for her to see that he was unsettled. They were walking up _his_ stairs: the same size, exact same dimensions, same color, a _perfect_ replica. They were the stairs he had been carried up in his mother’s arms when he first arrived as a tiny baby, and the same ones he had descended that morning, his heart heavy as memories of his mother played in his head. And now here Chat Noir was, heading up these same stairs, about to face the man who secluded himself behind locked doors on the top floor, just like he did at home.

Twenty steps later and they reached the first floor. Two winding staircases stood at opposite ends.

“Left or right?” Ladybug asked out loud.

“Left,” he answered. The right staircase led to the den and the guest room. The left to where his room, the study, and his father’s room lay. 

“You sure?” She was surprised that he answered so quickly. 

“Yeah.”

And then it all was a blur. Ladybug’s pigtails bounced as she skipped each step. Chat Noir lagged behind with a nervous grip on his staff. Then they were rounding the corner into the hallway, and he couldn’t tell how fast he was running or if he was even running at all because his legs felt like they were floating in the _air._ Then a thick white surface jumped out at him; he skidded, he tripped, but somehow his heels dug into the marble floor and he caught his fall.  


The two heroes gazed up at the arch shaped door that separated them from their arch nemesis. Ladybug already had her yo-yo out and had moved her arm back to take a swing at the purple handle. Chat Noir put both hands on his staff and stretched it out to the size of a sword’s length. His claws retracted and scraped against the metal with a screech. They curled before he took his staff in his right hand. His eyes followed the yo-yo’s string as it shot through the air and looped around the door handle. A click, they charged, and Chat Noir’s eyes stung as the light hit him.

Through blinks, he caught a glimpse of steel bars on the walls, thick black lines that crisscrossed on the floor, and white butterflies that swarmed around the observatory. His vision readjusted and he glanced over to the far end. Purple light filtered in from the large, circular, stain glass window, casting a sinister glow where the villain stood in the center of the room. As the sound of Ladybug and Chat Noir’s footsteps bounced off the walls, Hawkmoth raised his left arm. He struck his cane down on the ground with a sharp tap and scratched the floor with a turn. Ladybug and Chat Noir jumped back. The butterflies scattered, Hawkmoth’s food slid forward, and the three of them were staring face to face for the first time.

“Ladybug. Chat Noir. So we finally meet at last,” Hawkmoth coolly addressed them. 

Chat Noir felt his heart climb up his throat as Hawkmoth approached them. His eyes bulged as he noticed that Hawkmoth’s long, thin fingers twirled the cane about in his hands in the same way that he would when he played around with his staff.

“We’ve been at this game of _cat and mouse_ for how long? A year? _Two?_ Time flies when you’re having _fun,”_ Hawkmoth chuckled.

Hawkmoth’s taunt sent Chat Noir’s blood boiling. His claws sunk into the metal of his staff. He lunged forward with a shout.

“You think this is some sort of a **game?** ”

“Chat!” Ladybug’s hand swooped down on his shoulder. A shove did not deter her, and she quickly went to Chat Noir’s arm and restraining him from lunging again as he kept on shouting:

“You think it’s **funny** to **brainwash** people and **control** them like they’re your **puppets?** That it’s **ok** to control their every **move,** every **thought,** every single bit of their **life** until there’s nothing of them **left!** You think people are something just to **toy** with? To **use,** and **use,** and **USE** until they mean **NOTHING** to you?” 

“And why would a stupid little **cat** like you care?” Hawkmoth sneered.

“I’m not **stupid!** I know what you **did!** ” Chat Noir’s voice seeped with rage.

“ _I know what you did,”_ Hawkmoth said in a mocking tone. “You heroes are always so _self righteous._ ”

“Cut the **crap** out!” Chat Noir lifted his right hand as if to cover his mouth but fell back to the staff. “You- you can go on and live that **lie** that’s been your life for the past five years, but I know what you **are.** You’re a **MONSTER** You’re a **MURDERER!** ”

Chat Noir fought against Ladybug’s grip. His claws frantically swiped at the air as he attempted to reach out and lash Hawkmoth. 

“Was **she** just another one of your **toys** A **doll?** Something pretty to look at, to take out once in a while, brush her hair, undress, change her clothes, but then you’ll get **bored** and **dump** her the first chance you **get** once you come across a better **model?** I thought you **loved** her!”

Hawkmoth slid back. His cane clattered against the floor. His face grew pale and his mouth hung open, astonished, as Chat Noir’s words assaulted his ears. 

“She **LOVED** you! She loved you with all her **heart** and **soul.** And you—you never **CARED!** ”

“Chat what are you **talking** about?” Ladybug exclaimed. She wrapped her arms around Chat Noir’s chest and locked them together to prevent him from escaping.

“You never gave a **SHIT** about her did you? Not while she was **alive** and especially not now in **DEATH!** ”  
Hawkmoth snapped from his trance. He stepped forward with a furious expression and brought his cane down on the floor.

“You watch your **TONGUE** boy!” Hawkmoth snarled.

“Don’t tell me what I can fucking **say!** ” Chat Noir retorted. 

“You don’t even have the slightest idea about what I’ve **been** through since she died! She meant the **world** to me!” Hawkmoth’s voice rose into an anguished shriek.

“You’re **LYING!** ” Chat Noir screamed. Ladybug jumped back with a flinch and covered her ears.

“I’m **not** lying to you!” Hawkmoth insisted. He widened his close stance. His cool gaze for a second, softened.

“CHAT! **NO!”** Ladybug hand shot out to grab Chat Noir again but he slipped from her grasp. With his staff held high he charged.

Hawkmoth swerved and dodged Chat Noir’s first blow. Cane clashed against staff as father and son began to duel. Chat Noir pounced forward. Hawkmoth slid back. Screech after screech came as the two metal weapons were brought down on each other again and again. A jab. A block. Another jab. One hit aimed high. Another swung down to hit the legs. Hits that no matter how close they came, never made contact with their opponent. Chat Noir’s clammy hands trembled on his staff, his vocal cords throbbed in pain from all the screams he let out, and tears were streaming down his cheeks, making it difficult for him to see the torn expression on his father’s face. Ladybug ran towards them and shot her yo-yo out in between them several times to break them up.

“STOP! **STOP!** ” She yelled.

She gave one last throw and brought the string down like a whip. Its crack startled them. Chat Noir gasped. His staff fell from his hand to the ground. With a hiccup, he gazed up at Hawkmoth.

“Do—do you even _care_ about me? Do you even **love** me?” He sobbed.

Hawkmoth had resumed his cold, defensive stare. Chat Noir’s tears kept flowing. His cries hoarsely escaped his shaking lips like a newborn kitten’s weak mewing.

“Why am I even asking you? I know you _don’t._ Then just **say it!** ”

Hawkmoth’s cold exterior began to dissolve. His purple eyes widened and watered. His tight grip on the cane loosened. A took a step forward with a hum in his throat that working its way up and had just reached his lips that began to part…

“SAY IT YOU **COWARD!** ” Chat Noir demanded. 

An enraged expression crossed Hawkmoth’s face. His mouth opened to let a deafening roar. He brought the cane up and pointed it at Chat Noir. A purple light pulsed out and struck the hero right in the chest.

Ladybug screamed.

Chat Noir was flung backwards into the air. His body went limp as a paralyzing white light shrouded him from the top of his head and moved downwards. As it touched him, his Chat Noir costume disappeared into thin air. He struggled to breathe, gasping as the light passed over his chest. Black stars shone before his eyes and clouded his view of Hawkmoth standing only a few feet away. His mouth opened to scream but not a sound came. The light reached his feet and disappeared. His eyelids twitched for one last time before they closed and Adrien Agreste sunk to the floor.


	29. The Battle Part 2

“ **ADRIEN!** ”

Ladybug’s shaking hand covered her mouth to stifle the gasp that rattled her in throat. Once she reached the spot where the boy lay, she sunk to her knees. Her hands frantically grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him up. Her left hand snaked around his head and ran through his blond waves. Her right held his back upright. A sob escaped her lips as she leaned over him and rested her forehead on his’.

“Oh my god! Adrien! **Adrien!** ”

Ladybug clutched Adrien’s limp body and began to rock him back and forth. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks and onto his cool forehead. She wailed. 

“ **Adrien!** ”

Her trembling lips feverishly pressed against his.’ She broke off with a hiccup and nestled her head on his shoulder. Her right hand squeezed the back of his shirt, and she felt the thud of his faint heartbeat radiate out as he slumped against her chest. 

A sudden noise startled her. The whiz came from above and she glanced up to see a small catlike being hover in the air. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this! Go after Hawkmoth!” The kwami told her.

Ladybug’s eyes hurt as she blinked back the last of her tears. She gently placed Adrien back on the ground and rose to her feet. She saw a flash of green energy from the corner of her eye before she turned towards Hawkmoth again. Scorching blood rushed through her veins and carried her over. The yo-yo shot out, and her rage surged up from the depths of her gut, up her chest, throat, and out as a vengeful shriek. She attacked, lassoing Hawkmoth with the yo-yo. Her knuckles dug into his cheeks and her foot kicked at his shin. He fell to the ground and Ladybug descended upon him. Her hands stung from the punches she sent. Hawkmoth made no effort to defend himself. His hands twitched by his side. His skin had turned a blotchy red and was starting to bruise. A sickening crack came as her fist struck his nose. Thick blood gushed all over his face, his coat, and her gloved fingers. He let out a pained groan, tears welling in his eyes, and his mouth opened to plead for mercy. But Ladybug’s final punch shut him up before he could say a word. His eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed like his son had only minutes earlier. 

Ladybug grabbed the front of his coat and ripped off the Miraculous. A white light moved over Hawkmoth as he reverted back into Gabriel. His eyelashes fluttered against his cracked glasses and he came to with a sharp intake of air. His lip quivered and stretched out. His eyes bulged and his limbs tensed. He hysterically began to sob.

Ladybug ignored him. Her hands reached out to pick up the unconscious kwami that lay in front of her. Cold black smoke circled the shriveled up being and it convulsed in the palm of her hand. Without wasting a second, Ladybug yanked the yo-yo off of Gabriel, brushing off his blood off the string and got to her feet once more. Her dominant hand tossed the yo-yo up into the air. She swerved back and held Moira up. Red light poured down on the kwami and took her up into the yo-yo. A click and the yo-yo fell back into Ladybug’s hands. It beeped until it opened to reveal a purified Moira. Ladybug moved over back to Adrien until her knees gave out. She sunk down beside him and the white light passed over her at last.

**************************************************************************************** 

Adrien’s senses slowly came back to him. Touch was the first. The surface below him felt hard and cold and a dull ache throbbed in his chest. Hearing was next. A ping rang in his ears and he tuned in. A muffled sobbing came from a distance. Right above him, a buzzing sound cut through the conversation of three voices.

“Are you sure she’s ok? She’s still out,” A voice that sounded a lot like Ladybug’s asked.

“When kwamis get seriously hurt they’ll go into healing sleep. From the looks of it, this one is the first she’s had in centuries. It might take a little longer than usual but she’ll be fine. We just have to put her in a safe place and keep her away from bad energy,” Came a high- pitched unfamiliar voice. It was followed by another buzz.

“You sure?”

“Don’t worry so much kid, Tikki knows what’s she talking about. She’s an expert when it comes to this stuff,” Plagg said. 

Adrien blinked. His chest rose up as he took a breath.

“Hang on! Adrien’s waking up!” 

Adrien’s eyes slowly opened. Three blurry figures hovered above him. One of them was a girl, cradling an unconscious kwami that appeared to be Moira. Right on her shoulder sat a kwami that looked like a Ladybug. Plagg floated in the air. Adrien’s vision became clear and he stared up to see…

_Marinette ?_

For a second he wondered if he was still unconscious but Plagg’s overjoyed expression proved that Adrien was wide awake. He flew down over to Adrien and wrapped his arms against his shoulders.

“Welcome back buddy!” Plagg exclaimed, relieved. 

Adrien’s fingers patted Plagg’s back. He gazed up at Marinette and looked at her even more closely than he had before. The features that she shared with Ladybug popped out at him: the blue hue in her black hair that hung in ringlets just above her shoulders, her soft blue eyes that lit up as she watched him sit up, her thin pink lips that stretched into a smile. It was the same hair, eyes, and smile, full of strength, courage, and warmth that had captivated him back during that very first mission when he and Ladybug had defeated Stoneheart, and his heart fluttered as her identity became clear to him at last.

“ _Marinette._ ” 

“Adrien you’re—you’re awake!” Marinette’s free hand made a movement to touch Adrien but recoiled. She nervously chuckled and gave him a smile that made his heart melt.

“How—how long was I out?” He asked.

“Good twenty minutes but you had the world’s best paramedics working round the clock to cure ya. Defibrillators a la Plagg! The most powerful reviving energy in the entire universe! And a special _someone_ threw in a _kiss of life_ when the going got tough!” Plagg laughed.

Marinette went beet red. She buried her face in her hands.

“Plagg!” The ladybug kwami scolded him. 

“Come on Tikki I thought it was cute,” Plagg said.

“Well yeah but---oh I am so sorry! I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Tikki Marinette’s kwami,” Tikki faced Adrien.

“Hi. I uh, I honestly don’t know what to say right now. Sorry, I’m just--- “ Adrien glanced over at the figure of his father curled up on the ground. He went quiet, watching the way his father’s back jutted out each time he let out a sob.

“He didn’t even fight me back. He kept taking my hits. It was like if he wanted to punish himself for what he did to you,” Marinette told Adrien in a low voice. 

“Are you ok to transform? The cops are coming any second,” Plagg asked Adrien.

“Oh yeah. Nathalie’s bringing the cops. Wait, what are we gonna do about Moira?”

“Me and Tikki are going to look after her. Do—do you mind holding her for a second?” Marinette said.

Adrien cupped his hands and Marinette placed Moira down. Her hand brushed against his’ and Adrien’s hand felt weighed down by her touch. She stood up and rolled her shoulders back. Her hand went to her left ear.

“Tikki transform me!” She shouted. 

Red light wrapped around Marinette as the transformation began. He watched in awe, enthralled by how beautiful she was.

*********************************************************************************************************************** 

A helicopter circled the warehouse above. The number of vehicles parked around the building: police cars, news trucks, military trucks were too many to count. Reporters and crew shoved their mircophones and cameras in the faces of enraged law enforcement. Civilians struggled to push through the crowd towards the front the police tape that barred them from getting closer to the scene that was history in the making. A visibly exhausted Ladybug was talking to the head of police, with a hand on her hip to conceal Moira who had been strapped to the yo-yo. Chat Noir paced around the building. He had gone through the crowd, met with each of the responders, yet there had been no sign of Nathalie.

Shouts filled the air as it was made known that the SWAT team was making their way out of the building. Policeman guarding the barricade swooped in to make sure that the crowd didn’t charge. News teams rushed towards the entrance and Chat Noir took his place beside Ladybug. The first of the soldiers came out followed by the ones who were dragging Gabriel Agreste out. Everyone collectively gasped. The sunlight cast a sickening yellowish glow on Gabriel’s haggard frame, on the chains that bound his wrists and ankles, the dried blood on his shirt and face. The man was still in a state of shock as he was paraded down the walkway. The taunts, the questions, and the shouts were hurled at him along with blinding camera flashes and the shoves of the soldiers who forced him to move on. Ladybug and Chat Noir followed them to the police truck. One of the soldiers stopped to unlock the back door. Gabriel gazed off to the side to see his son standing alongside the girl who had defeated him. He turned away as the soldier grabbing his by the arm shoved him inside the truck. Chat Noir swayed to his right and peered inside. His expression fell as he saw that Nathalie was sitting at the far end of the back of the truck. She was hunched over, and shaking as the outside light forced her to sit upright. A silver glimmer reflected off of the handcuffs around her red wrists. With his free hand raised close to his chest, and holding back tears, his voice trembled as he called her. Nathalie’s tear-streaked face met his. She nodded, confirming the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guys believe that's it's been a year since I started writing Heartless? Look how far we've come!


	30. The Exposé

_Waiting_

Nathalie had never waited for so long in her life. First it was the hour in the police station, staring at the back of the white cabinet wall as she nervously pondered over how she would unload the burden that had been crushing her for nearly five years. The _tick-tick_ coming from the clock on the wall gave her the jitters, her hands shook, and she kept her head down, knowing that it would be the last hour that she would ever spend free.

_Waiting_

Sitting in the back of the truck, listening to the voice that came in from the speaker on the wall to confirm the warehouse’s address. Then with a crackle came the silence and one final chance to mourn what she had lost. The tears flowed as she stared down at the redness that swelled where the handcuffs dug into her skin.

_Waiting_

Now under the dim light of the holding room, she sat there as she waited for her attorney. She did not know how much time had passed; it could have been five minutes, thirty, maybe an hour, but it felt too long. All this waiting was making her anxious. She just wanted to get this all over with but what good would that do? The meeting would be over then she would be escorted back to her cell to wait again.

“Ms. Sancoeur?” 

The door opened. Nathalie lifted her head up to see that the attorney had finally arrived. She sat up straight in her seat and watched as the attorney took a seat.

“My name is Adele Simon. I’ll be your attorney,” the lawyer introduced herself. 

“Thank you,” Nathalie said.

Ms. Simon took out some files from her briefcase and faced Nathalie.

“Now if we were to go from—“

“I want to plead guilty,” Nathalie interrupted her.

A surprised look crossed the attorney’s face.

“Are you sure you want to do that?”

“Yes.” 

“Ms. Sancoeur, there’s a high chance that we could make a good case if we go to trial. The judges might not be swayed, but if we recount your situation just right we might be able to convince the jury that---“

“Thank you, but I have made my decision,” Nathalie said.

Ms. Simon picked up one of the files and shuffled through them. She took out several papers and looked up at Nathalie once again.

“If this is about getting an early parole or a lesser sentence—“

“It’s _not_ Ms. Simon. I know what I did, and I know I should have paid for what I have done a long time ago. The least I could do to take off some of that burden is to cooperate with the prosecution is to expose Mr. Agreste for exactly who he is.”

The attorney paused and thought over Nathalie’s words. She flipped through the papers and took out one of them before addressing Nathalie once again: 

“Very well then. Let’s get started.”

********************************

_“Hold on a second…we’re getting breaking news that the supervillain known as Hawkmoth has been arrested._

**LADYBUG AND CHAT NOIR CAPTURE HAWKMOTH**

_“France 24 here live on the scene with Michelle---“_

**PARIS CELEBRATES HAWKMOTH’S CAPTURE**

_“I mean it’s over man! We don’t have to worry about some bug things getting into our brains anymore ‘cause of that dude---“_

**10 STUNNING PHOTOS FROM THE VICTORY PARADE**

_Superheroes Ladybug and Chat Noir solemnly accept the medal of honor from French president Hollande for their heroic duties. Page 2._

**FASHION WORLD SHOCKED BY GABRIEL AGRESTE’S SECRET IDENITY AS HAWKMOTH**

_“Sources have told us that the Agreste show has been pulled from NYC Fashion Week after the news of Gabriel Agreste’s supervillain double life had been made public---“_

**SUPERMODEL MARIE AGRESTE CONFIRMED DEAD**

_“Oh god I’m just shocked. Marie and Gabriel just seemed so happy together. You never know what’s going on behind closed doors…”_

**MOURNERS GATHER IN FRONT OF AGRESTE HEADQUARTERS TO PAY TRIBUTE TO MARIE AGRESTE**

_“That boy must be devastated. To find out his father’s a supervillain and then his mother’s dead---“_

**MYSTERY INFORMANT CRUCIAL TO HAWKMOTH’S TAKEDOWN**

_All that is known about the informant is that she had a high position of power within the Agreste company and turned herself in shortly before Hawkmoth’s capture. Her identity is being withheld for her safety…_

**WHAT HAWKMOTH’S ARREST MEANS FOR FRANCE**

_“And here to talk to CNN about the arrest is our foreign correspondent –“_

**OPED: BRING BACK THE DEATH PENALTY FOR HAWKMOTH**

_…Are we really more civilized for letting such a villainous man such as Mr. Agreste live? We as a nation need to send a message out to the world that such evil will not be stood for…_

**GABRIEL AGRESTE TRIAL DATE HAS BEEN SET FOR OCTOBER**

****************************************************************************

####  Hello! My name is Mathis Durand. I used to work for Agreste as a stylist for about three years. I specialize in makeup and you might recognize my work from ads like this one. Give me all the questions you got I can’t wait to answer! 

**User:** Did you know that Gabriel Agreste was evil?

**Durand:** He is a highly unpleasant person but I’d never think he was evil until now. He was a control freak when it came to photoshoots. If there was one little thing that was off, he’d go ballistic. One of the worst incidents I saw was when he lost it at a model because she looked bloated in the photos. Proceeds to call her a fat cow and told her that if she wanted to keep her contract that she had to drop at least 5 kilos. Lemme tell you this poor girl was like a friggin stick. She wasn’t the first to cry at a shoot but that just broke my heart man. 

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**User:** You at know about his coke habit? Or seen him on a bender?

**Durand:** Dude nearly everyone in this fucking industry is on something I wouldn’t be surprised if he was coked out 24/7. Like I don’t snort that shit but damn it is easy to get. Go to any party and there is always coke in the VIP room. Everyone uses the same dealers too so I could hypothetically ask around and find out who’s been filling his spoon. If he uses one that is. 

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**User** : Do you have any contouring tips?

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**User:** Gabriel Agreste stories plz?

**User:** Is it true that Gabriel Agreste’s been subliminally brainwashing us with purple shades and butterfly motifs so that we’ll bend to his will when he establishes his evil empire of fabulousness?

**User:** F0UND TH3 TRO11

**User:** Someone’s tinfoil hat is on a little too tight

**User:** GABRIEL AGRESTE IS THE ILLUMINATI CONFIRMED

**User:** Whoa! Slow down there my dude!

**User:** I am not your dude, my man

**User:** I am not your man, my bro

**User:** I am not your bro, dad

**User:** Hi I am not your brodad I’m dad

**User:** FFUUUUUCCCCKKK

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**User:** Is it true that Gabriel Agreste copied  >this guy’s designs?

**User:** Would you punch Gabriel Agreste in the face?

**Durand:** Yes.

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**User:** Have you ever spent time with Gabriel Agreste outside of work?

**Durand:** No. He’s a very closed off person. Not the type you’d slap on the shoulder and go out and have a beer with, very poised very professional, had his clique of the best of the best and everyone else he’d flat out ignore. Been to plenty of afterparties where he was though and he acted like a frickin high schooler. He’d just stand there with his clique and snootily sip his drink while they’d badmouth everyone they didn’t like. One time a girl approached him to ask for an autograph and he started going off on her for wasting his time. Like man I understand you don’t like autographs but shouting at your fans is not gonna make people like you.

**User:** Huh? I asked for his autograph once and he gave it to me no problem. Same with my friend. 

**User:** User, I went to a meetup to get his son’s autograph and he literally tried to steal his kid’s spotlight and sign everything himself. 

**ChatNoirIsTheBest01:** I heard Adrien hates autographs so that’s probably why.

**User:** ChatNoirIsTheBest01 where’d you hear that?

**User:** ?????

**User:** Have an idea who the informant is?

**Durand:** Nope but she has to be someone who was just as fed up with Agreste’s shit as I was and somewhere in his inner circle.

**User:** Maybe Durand was the informant all along

**User:** Informant Durand saves the day!

**User:** Keeping Hawkmoth at bay!

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**User:** She probably slept with him or something

**Durand:** Ya know it could be true one of my friends walked in on him backstage at NYC fashion week last year getting a bj from some model.

**User:** Pics or it didn’t happen

**User:** I can’t believe a supervillain is getting more action than me

**User:** I have the weirdest fear boner right now 

**User: FEAR BONER**

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**User:** Does Gabriel Agreste have any other deep dark secrets?

**Durand:** Well it’s more of an open secret in the fashion world but Gabriel Agreste didn’t start out alone. He worked with this guy, Raoul Chastain. They like went to lycée and uni together and planned on doing a duo line ala Dolce  & Gabbana but they didn’t agree on anything from like designs to the brand name and whatnot. Gabriel being the selfish twat he is decides to take the credit for everything and kick Raoul to the curb. To make it even worse, Raoul had AIDS. This was like the 80s and AIDS was a death sentence. After Gabriel dropped him from the line Raoul had nobody his whole family basically ostracized him for being gay, his friends and everyone else in the industry stayed away from him for having AIDS. Poor dude died few months after Gabriel’s first big show. 

**User:** Douche move Agreste

**User:** The more I hear about this guy the more I can’t believe that such a shitty man exists 

**User:** Does this Agreste guy have ANY empathy whatsoever. I’m convinced he’s a sociopath

**User:** idk man maybe he’s a narcissist 

**User:** Sociopaths have narcissistic traits 

**User:** No no no sociopaths can’t understand emotions but they know there’s something wrong with them PSYCHOPATH is the correct term to describe Gabriel Agreste. Psychopaths have no conscience whatsoever and just don’t care about others they just use them like toys and are violent

**User:** But not all psychopaths and sociopaths are violent

**User:** HAWKMOTH WAS LITERALLY TRYING TO FUCKING KILL US IF HE DIDN’T CONTROL US HES A FUCKING PYSCHOPATH

**User:** Pysch major here and you guys are ALL WRONG

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**User:** On a scale of 1 to a billion how scary is Gabriel Agreste in person?

**Durand:** Shit your pants scary if he doesn’t get his fucking coffee in the morning. It is pure horror. His face goes purple and he starts shrieking, and gets in your face if stuff goes wrong. He’s never gotten violent against people but the wall in the back corridor has gotten it so many times, along with one catering table, and multiple set props. All the interns who work on set have to make sure that the espresso machine is stocked and up and running because if it isn’t, all hell will break loose. I’ve seen that man take at least 10 espresso shots in a row and I have wondered how he hasn’t died yet. And oh yeah, people are paid hush money to keep this quiet all the time. 

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**User:** What made you leave Agreste?

**Durand:** I was working for this photoshoot back in January. It was a summer shoot for teen bathing suits so he gets one of the younger models and his son to do it. They take photos and then the girl goes up for her set. So she starts posing and he stops and tells her to take her bikini top off. Her friggin top. This girl was like fucking 15. So Adrien starts yelling at his dad to stop. Obviously Gabriel was pissed but Adrien wasn’t having that. He goes over to the girl, covers her up with his towel, and leads her out. God bless that kid. He had the balls to do what no one else could. So I thought long and hard after that if I really wanted to stay with that shitstain of a company and I decided that hell no I won’t. Went to Zara. They’re lovely. 

**User:** That is disgusting.

**User:** Oh my god. I can’t believe this. 

**User:** Dude whatever little respect I have for that man is gone. I’m not surprised if he’s also a pedo. Wait wasn’t his wife like 18 or something when they started dating?

**Durand:** Ok so I heard this from some chick who really hated Marie back in the day because of some stupid shit so it’s probably not 100% true but like apparently both Marie and Gabriel had feelings for each other for like a year before they dated, but never did anything, but like a few weeks before her 18th they’re like fuck it and hook up on an unused set. And on her birthday she looses his virginity to him, and they start dating and the rest is history. RIP Marie. Never met her but she seemed like a wonderful woman from what people told me and deserved so much more than that prick. 

_Load more comments (569 replies)_

**User:** What makeup brand do you recommend for everyday use?

_Continue This Thread_

********************************** 

#### OH MY GOD HAWKMOTH HAS BEEN ARRESTED AND HE’S AN ACTUAL CELEBRITY

_Load Comments (2017)_   
_Load Comments (1083)_

**ChatNoirIsTheBest01:** Guys I know this sounds crazy but what if Adrien Agreste is Chat Noir? I mean like they look similar and like we already know that Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth so why wouldn’t it surprise us if his son knew about it and took him down to get revenge on what happened to his mom?

**User:** Lol that’s stupid

**User:** ChatNoirIsTheBest01 like wtf man?

**User:** Nah that’s too much of a coincidence 

**User:** Adrien went to my school and he’s not Chat Noir. He’s like the exact opposite of him. 

**User:** Yah Adrien fans can be a bit delusional but this is taking the cake 

**ChatNoirIsTheBest01:** I didn’t say I was an Adrien Fan. 

**User:** Can someone tell me who this Gabriel Agreste guy is?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's officially been a year since I posted the first chapter of Soulless!


	31. The Confession

_Late August, 9:00 am_

Adrien lay back on the sofa as he scrolled through his twitter feed. After a two month long hiatus, he finally updated his twitter with a photo of the beach from his vacation down in southern France. Nino had invited him to come along with his family on the three- week trip and Adrien was eager to get out of Paris. The paparazzi swarmed outside the house day and night, making it hard for him to leave unnoticed as himself or Chat Noir, he couldn’t take five steps out on the street without being stopped by well meaning yet unbearable fans, and although he liked Gorilla, having a bodyguard accompany him everywhere he went wasn’t fun. It seemed like the only thing to do while the lawyer sorted out all the legal issues involving the media and custody was to stay cooped up in the house and Adrien knew it would drive him crazy. 

Three weeks at the beach was what he needed. The fresh air, days lazing about in the sun, swimming in the Mediterranean, star gazing with Nino’s family at night, the relief he felt as he and Nino would walk through the small town without anyone noticing that Adrien Agreste was there, and feeling like a part of Nino’s family as they included him in everything they did was rejuvenating. He came back to Paris, sun-tanned, eight and a half centimeters taller, at a healthy weight, and with a smile on his face. By then, the paparazzi was gone, the shock surrounding Hawkmoth had died out somewhat, and Adrien was informed that he would be able to file for emancipation when he turned sixteen in January. He used the last days of the summer to relax before he would start lycèe in September. Of course, he was nervous about how the kids would treat him after forcing him to leave school back in February, but Adrien knew that he missed the feeling of being a normal kid and going to school just like everyone else. 

The notifications app was going haywire. Not a millisecond had passed when his phone would ring with the news that his tweet had been liked, retweeted, or commented on. 

_@Adrien Agreste: Nice_  
_@ Adrien Agreste: Don’t let this fool u ppl he’s still in danger #SaveAdrien_  
_@ Adrien Agreste: Welcome back!_  
_@Adrien Agreste: Are you ok? #SaveAdrien_  
_@Adrien Agreste: wheres this place i wanna go there! #vacaygoals_  
_@Adrien Agreste: I’d kill Hawkmoth just for him #SaveAdrien_  
_@ Adrien Agreste: We love you!! Stay strong! <3 _  
_@ Adrien Agreste @User @ User: Hawkmoth’s been in jail for a month now and the kid’s obviously fine. HE DOES NOT NEED SAVING_

Another ping. Adrien glanced at his phone to see that the info bubble was not blue but green. Two hearts surrounded the letter L along with a message:

_ <3 L<3: She’s awake _

The fluttering sensation in Adrien’s heart stirred. His lips stretched into a dopey grin before the true meaning of the text sank in. He sat up and quickly typed a response.

_On my way over now._

Adrien got up from the sofa. The hard surface of the floor against his bare feet made him freeze in place. It was at that moment that he realized that he was still in his pajamas, with a bad case of bedhead, and morning breath that stank worse than Plagg’s coveted camembert. 

“I can’t go out like this,” he sighed.

*******************************

About half an hour later, a showered, neatly combed, and smelling of minty fresh toothpaste Adrien walked into _Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie._ His hands fidgeted with the ends of his white button down shirt, hoping that it was smooth enough and that no creases showed. He squirmed as the fabric of the suddenly two sizes two small skinny jeans threatened to send him tumbling over his two feet. He muttered to himself in a low voice, hoping to get the words just right:

“Hello, no good morning’s better. Good morning Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng how are you? Are you fine? Is Ladybug—no I can’t say that. Marinette, is Marinette home? No that sounds stupid. Is Marinette here? Is Marinette in the bakery? Is Maribug— **ugh!** I’ve done this like five million times before! Why is it suddenly so **hard!** ” He exclaimed in a frustrated tone. 

Plagg snickered from the inside of Adrien’s shirt pocket.

“Are you gonna help me or what?” Adrien said.

“Adrien?”

Adrien jolted back and glanced up over by the counter to see Marinette’s parents standing there.

“Oh -hi -Mr.- and- Mrs.- Dupain-Cheng- is-is- Maribug—Marinette there?” he stuttered.

Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng shot each other knowing looks and chuckled. Adrien felt his cheeks go red. He placed a hand against one of them.

“Yep she’s here alright! I’ll go get her for you,” Mrs. Dupain-Cheng exclaimed. There was a twinkle in her eye as she turned towards the stairs and hollered:

“Marinette! Adrien’s here!”

“How are you Adrien?” Mr. Dupain-Cheng asked. 

“Good. How about you… sir?” Adrien answered. 

“I’m as busy as ever. The customers never stop dropping in, even during August. First time in a while that we haven’t been able to close shop during vacation season,” He briefly patted Adrien’s shoulder.

“Would you like something to eat? I have some pastries fresh from the oven,” Mrs. Dupain-Cheng had appeared with a tray.

“Oh. Yes. Thank you,” Adrien took one and nibbled on it.

“So Mari’s told us that you went with Nino to the beach,” Mrs. Dupain-Cheng said.

“Yeah. It was great we---“

Marinette came down the stairs. Adrien stopped and gazed up at her. His heart raced, the color on his cheeks darkened, and his hand jittered as he waved.

“Hey,” Adrien’s lips stretched into a dopey grin.

“Hey,” she responded. There was a hint of nervousness in her voice.

They were both quiet. Adrien glanced back at her parents and then up at her. His whole body felt light as he took a step forward. And then another. And another until he reached the foot of the steps. 

“So um…is um is she…” Adrien felt tongue-tied as he struggled to ask about Moira without Marinette’s parents noticing. The code words that they both used to talk about Moira were just not forming in his head and he couldn’t help but stare at Marinette. She was so _heavenly._ Round dimpled cheeks, celestial blue eyes as bright as the early morning sky, and her smile, such a beautiful smile that made him feel like the sun was shining down upon him. 

“I’ll show you,” Marinette grabbed his free hand and began to lead him upstairs. Her eyes widened with embarrassment as she realized what she had done. “Oh sorry! I didn’t—“

“It’s ok,” he assured her with a smile. He gave her hand a light squeeze and they both went up the stairs. Down below, Marinette’s parents beamed at them.

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************

Moira sat on the small pillow Marinette had knitted for her on the desk. She took a huge bite into the grape that she held. Juice spurt out and trickled down the sides.

“I’m sorry, I’m just so hungry,” Moira apologized to Marinette, Adrien, Tikki, and Plagg.

“It’s ok sweetie. You need to eat. Don’t feel bad about it,” Tikki assured her.

“Don’t sweat about it! You gotta get strong Morrie!” Plagg flexed his arm. Moira giggled.

“You want a bit of my pastry?” Adrien broke off a piece and held it out to her. Moira took it and shoved it into her mouth.

“I know kwamis eat a lot but I’ve never seen one go through an entire bunch of grapes before,” Marinette pointed at the empty branch that lay on the desk.

Plagg and Tikki moved in closer to Moira and began to talk to her about some sort of kwami thing that Adrien didn’t know about. He stepped away from the desk and turned back towards Marinette. 

“Um. Were you ok without me?” Although he was calmer now, his voice sounded higher than usual.

“Yeah. There wasn’t too much trouble now that---“ Marinette trailed off. Whether it was from the fear of mentioning Hawkmoth in front of Moira or Adrien, he couldn’t tell.

“Yeah, I bet it’s mostly petty crime,” Adrien filled in the gap.

Marinette nodded and looked straight into his eyes. Adrien racked his head, wondering what to say. Talk about his vacation? He sent her updates with photos of him and Nino and of the beach. There was not much more to expand upon. School? She knew he’d be there. The elephants in the room that had been sitting there in the corner and growing larger and larger in size for the past two years?

“I missed you,” she said.

“Me too,” Adrien became quiet again. He glanced over at the kwamis, back at Marinette, and at the imaginary elephants in the corner. And he knew which one had to be tackled first. 

“Hey? Can I talk to you? A-alone?” He asked, feeling the nerves jumble about inside him again.

“Sure,” they went out into the hall. Adrien took a deep breath to collect his thoughts. He closed his eyes and opened them.

“Marinette I’ve—I’ve liked, no I _loved_ you ever since our first battle together. And whenever I’d—I’d work with you as Ladybug, I never believed that she’d be someone I knew in real life. And, all this time, I’ve—I’ve been with you nearly every single day, and here I am like kicking myself for not realizing it sooner. And now that I know who you are and all I---I just---“ Adrien was overwhelmed by the sight of her again. He blinked and his hand hovered in the air as if to either pat her shoulder or caress her cheek.

“You’re just—just--- _incredible._ ” Adrien’s voice cracked on the last word.

His whole face turned beet red. The magic broken, Adrien covered his face with an embarrassed groan.

“ _Ugh!_ Sorry! It wasn’t supposed to come out like that!”

“No! It’s—it’s ok,” Marinette quickly said as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “I totally get it—I mean---I couldn’t even like talk around you back in collége and I’d get like super nervous ‘cause I was crushing on you like I had never crushed on anyone before, and I had no idea either that you were Chat Noir and I—I thought you as Adrien, who’s actually you would never like me back and—“ she fumbled upon her words as well. Her cheeks had turned a pinkish red and her whole face went blank. They both stared at each for a long second before bursting into laughter. Adrien apprehensively placed a hand on her waist before she leaned in. They embraced. The top of Marinette’s head rested upon his shoulder. He nestled his head by the side of hers. And then they were still, silent, except for the sound of their breathing.

“I love you too,” Marinette whispered.

He gazed down at her and cupped her cheek. Her skin felt so warm and soft to the touch.

“I guess we’ve been in the same boat all this time. How long have you liked me for?”

“Since you gave me that umbrella. I still have it,” Marinette smiled up at him.

Another pause. Adrien thought long and hard over the words that bounced around in his head. He took another breath and started:

“I really wanna be with you. I do, honest. But I’m not so sure if I’m ready yet for a relationship. I’m sorry if I’m letting you down, the last thing I’d want is to ruin our partnership, our friendship, and especially since you mean so much to me.”

Marinette’s head leaned into his cheek. She blinked before answering.

“Don’t worry. I totally understand. I mean, after all that happened with your mom and dad, and now after we went after him. I can only imagine how tough it is.”

She was quiet for a second before adding:

“I want to be with you too.”

“Maybe one day,” Adrien said.

“Things might change though. Who knows what the future will be like? But what I’m sure about is that no matter what happens we’ll be in each other’s lives somehow. As partners. Friends. Or lovers. After everything we’ve been through as Ladybug and Chat Noir, I don’t think there’s anything that can break us apart.”

“So is it ok?” Adrien asked. 

“Yeah. I’ll be fine,” Marinette answered.

They both took a step back. Adrien glanced back inside the room to see if Plagg would come out but found that the kwamis were still deep in conversation.

“He’s gonna miss his free ride home,” Adrien remarked.

“I think we’ve got extra cheese down in the kitchen if you wanna bribe him,” Marinette suggested.

“That might work,” he said.

Adrien and Marinette headed towards the stairs. Just before they were about to go down, Adrien stopped and faced her again. The words came out of his mouth before he even had a chance to think it over:

“How come whenever you kiss me, I never seem to remember it?” 

Marinette gazed up at him. One hand went to his shoulder, the other to his cheek. Her lips curled up into a grin before parting to let out:

“We should fix that.”

He leaned down. She titled her head up. Before Adrien’s eyes closed, he kept his gaze fixed on the sparkle in her eyes. He wanted to remember that breathtaking color of a clear blue sky and keep it forever in his mind. Their lips met. Adrien’s heart fluttered rapidly and soared. Her hand gripped his cheek, his hand on her waist pulled her in, and Adrien felt like he had to pinch himself to remind him that what was happening was _real._ That he was kissing Ladybug, Marinette Dupain- Cheng, the girl of his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!!!! <3
> 
> 2/15/17: Have an [extra bonus](http://goofygoldengirl.tumblr.com/post/157283614097/how-come-whenever-you-kiss-me-i-never-seem-to)


	32. The Guilty Plea

“Ms. Sancoeur how do you plead?”

“Guilty.”

Nathalie’s voice echoed off the wooden walls of the old, lofty courtroom. The judge who towered over the room from his bench, droned on in a monotone voice. The stenographer sitting by the left hand side kept her head down as she transcribed the dialogue down into words, her hands moving mechanically like a puppet’s as they pressed down on the keys. Nathalie’s lawyer silently watched on, glancing over at Nathalie once in a while to check on her. The judicial officials stood guard behind Nathalie, intimidating and cold. And over in the public viewing, sat Adrien, the only outside witness in the room, who had taken time off from school and had pleaded with the judge to be allowed to sit in. Nathalie dared not look back at him. 

“…and thus I hereby approve of Ms. Sancoeur’s confession which is supported by the evidence presented by the prosecution. She is found guilty, and upon the prosecution’s suggestion, is to be sentenced to five years in prison.” 

The stenographer finished the last sentence on the transcript just seconds after the judge’s last word. Everyone stood up as the judge exited the room. Nathalie’s lawyer turned to her one last time and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you,” Nathalie said.

“You’re welcome. Good luck,” Ms. Simon responded with a nod and picked up her briefcase. She stepped over to the side to allow the judicial officials through. But they seemed to be preoccupied with another matter over by the public viewing area.

“Young man, you can’t---“

And then without warning, Adrien appeared in front of her. She had no time to react to his presence when she found that he stepped forward and embraced her. 

The cracks in the cool, calm demeanor that Nathalie wore during guilty plea crumbled. Hot tears fogged up the lens of her glasses. A shaking hand placed itself on his upper back. Her other hand cradled the back of his head. Like a mother trying to comfort a child, Nathalie’s hand moved his head to hold him close to her shoulder. But her hand curled against the top of his neck as she realized that he had gotten too tall to maneuver him down without any strain. So her head bent down and her forehead pressed against his shoulder. A tight grip on her shoulder pulled her away, and her arms were forced behind her as the judicial officials proceeded to handcuff her. She looked up at Adrien one last time. Her heart sank as she saw that tears streaked down face and that each breath he took came out as a sob. She scrunched up her face to stop the tears from flowing once more. She opened her mouth to speak: to tell him not to worry so much and reassure him that she knew what she was doing, that she would be fine, but a yank back from the judicial official forced her to come up with the next best thing:

“Take care Adrien.” 

“I will,” he shakily responded. 

Big, burly hands spun her around. A push and her feet shuffled forward. Nathalie blinked and the calmness washed over her again. The officials opened the door to the holding area. Ready and unafraid, she stepped inside.


	33. The Trial Part 1

The press and the other observers that gathered in the viewing area all anticipated the awaiting trial like a theater going audience. They buzzed with excitement as they took their seats, leaning forward to get a better view of the box shaped enclosure that would serve as the stage for the trial of the century. And one by one, the important players took their places. The defense and prosecution faced each other from opposite sides. The judges loomed over the room from their seats on the bench. Two judicial officials led the main player, Gabriel Agreste into the room. Right on cue came the boos and jeers from the crowd. With a prod and a shove, he was forced into the courtroom dock and locked in. The six members of the jury, completely ignored by everyone despite their crucial role in the trial, all waited in silence from their spot in the front row. One row behind sat the witnesses who would attest to Hawkmoth’s villainy. Psychological experts, former akuma victims who were willingly or unwillingly dragged out before the public once more, and the most important ones, Ladybug and Chat Noir. 

The murmurs reached Chat Noir’s ears. His hand sprawled out and arched over the bench’s surface like fur sticking up on the back of an agitated cat. It was all a game, spectacle, a circus for the media. Something to ogle and gawk at from a safe distance, like watching exotic animals at the zoo. It was all for their sick sense of amusement. They did not care about the people that Hawkmoth traumatized as they claimed to because they weren’t rich or famous. It wouldn’t matter if justice would be served or not because all the papers would care about would be the dirt that had been dug up and nothing more. They were opportunistic parasites that waited for the right tragedy to latch upon and suck dry. It _disgusted_ him.

Ladybug gently placed her hand over his. Her eyes gazed softly upon him as she slid her fingers in between his’. Their hands rose into the air, turned to face each other and clasped together. Chat Noir blinked, feeing the anger inside him dissipate as he leaned in towards her. Her words from all those months ago echoed in his ears:

_“You’re more than just a crime fighting partner, you’re my **friend.** I don’t want you to go through this alone.” _

He wouldn’t face this trial alone. Ladybug was by his side. 

The president judge walked in. Everyone in the room rose to their feet. Chat Noir gave Ladybug’s hand a light squeeze, keeping his eyes fixed ahead. The president judge took a seat. Everyone else followed.

Opening statements. The judge laid out the rules. The defense and prosecution pitched their argument to the crowd and jury despite knowing that both parties were set in their decision. All of France wanted Hawkmoth to rot in the ground, or in a place far, far, away from civilization as they did with important criminals of old. It was the law, with its belief that every man deserved a fair trial that stood in the public’s way. 

“…you the jury, using the evidence given to you, will gage the character of Mr. Agreste and his alias Hawkmoth…”

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, may I ask of you, what makes us human? Is it our intelligence that separates us from the animals below us? Our conscience that dictates right from wrong? Could it be both? Whatever answer you may give, it is obvious that we, as humans, pride ourselves in our humanity. But what happens if a person is stripped, or in extreme cases, devoid of it? I ask this, because the answers are staring us from the dock on the other side of the room. Gabriel Agreste, also known as Hawkmoth, has willingly given up his humanity when he decided to become a villain…”

“…Gabriel Agreste is just that, a broken man. One who was subjected to a power that he could not comprehend and had a hold over his needs and desires. Ladies and gentlemen, I only ask that you _listen_ to my case, and perhaps you might find that he is no more different from you or I.” 

One by one, the witnesses were paraded forth to the stand. 

“The prosecution calls forth Ivan Burel.”

“It happened to me last year--”

“My boss fired me—“

“Dr. Muller could you tell us about your study into the effects of akumazation?”

“I had no idea what I was getting into.”

“It was all of the sudden.”

“Based on this survey conducted last year---“

“Can you describe what happened to you?”

“My whole body went numb and this black light just moved over me—“

“It was terrifying.”

“Did you feel violated?”

“Yes. After.”

“I am in therapy right now.”

“---About 60% of the akumatized victims have reported having symptoms of PTSD.”

“And can you tell us who was the person who akumatized you?”

“Hawkmoth.”

“Are you sure they both had the same voice?”

“Yes, he was the man standing over there.”

“I have no further questions.”

“The prosecution calls forth Ladybug and Chat Noir.” 

A hum resonated throughout the room as Ladybug and Chat Noir got up from their seats and walked over to the podium. She took her place on the left hand, he on the right. They stood tall, radiating an aura of authority and importance about them that made seem older than their fifteen years. But a closer look showed that they were not immune to the pressure. Ladybug tried to suppress a nervous gulp as she cleared her throat. Chat Noir’s gaze darted from the prosecutor, the lawyer, lingering for a few uncomfortable seconds on Hawkmoth, before reaching the judges, all the while gripping at the base of his microphone. The prosecutor stepped out and stood a few feet from the podium. 

“Ms. Ladybug. Mr. Chat Noir. Good morning. Before we begin, I would like to ask some questions about yourselves. Roughly, how long have you acted as Paris’ superheroes?”

“Two years,” Ladybug answered first before Chat Noir had a chance to open his mouth.

“And what does that entail?”

“Protecting Paris. Fighting crime. Helping out in emergencies. Getting rid of Hawkmoth’s akumas,” Chat Noir listed some examples. 

“And how did you become superheroes?”

A tricky question. There was no way that either superhero could answer it honestly without outing themselves, and their kwamis, to the general public. The month before when Ladybug and Chat Noir received the letter that said they had to appear in court, both Tikki and Plagg threw them into mock testimony sessions to prepare them for any scenario that might arise. How to give an answer that would sufficiently give the questioner the information that was desired without delving into secret identities or the nature of Miraculouses. How to politely inform the questioner that even though they were superheroes, it did not mean they were experts on the subject. How to keep the questioner on track when he or she attempted to ask about something not Hawkmoth related. Chat Noir was able to come up with a quick answer. 

“Hawkmoth sent out an akuma. Something had to be done.”

“I received a Miraculous and got my powers which allowed me to fight Hawkmoth,” Ladybug added. 

“And this happened two years ago with the case of Mr. Burel, correct?”

“Yes.” 

“And Mr. Agreste--- Hawkmoth, targeted you?”

“Yes.”

“What was his reason?”

“He wanted our Miraculouses.”

“He had a plan to take over the world with their power.”

“So during this two year period, did Mr. Agreste ever make an attempt to seek you out personally?”

Chat Noir paused.

_“But what about if they ask if we’ve ever met Hawkmoth before? He’s my dad, I’ve technically known him since birth,” Adrien asked._

_“Ahh, but here’s the thing. You’re not testifying as Adrien Agreste, son of Gabriel Agreste, who has known him all your life. You’re testifying as **Chat Noir,** hero of Paris. As far as everyone is concerned, they’re two separate people. Use that to your advantage,” Plagg told him._

“Hawkmoth never tried to engage us directly. He always sent his akumas after us,” Ladybug said. 

“And was this the reason you went to confront him yourselves?” The prosecutor asked.

“Yes,” Chat Noir answered.

“The informant helped you find his whereabouts?”

“Yes, she did. She had worked for Mr. Agreste previously and had access to information about his company which we were able to use to find his hideout,” Ladybug said.

“Ms. Ladybug. Mr. Chat Noir. Could you describe the events of the eighteenth of July, 2016?”

They both had come to an agreement that it would be Ladybug who would tell the court about the battle in the warehouse. She was an outsider to the fight between Chat Noir and Hawkmoth. Her testimony would not be swayed by her emotions nor would it lead to unwanted questions.

“We encountered Hawkmoth in a large room on the top floor. He taunted us and he and Chat Noir began to fight. Chat Noir passed out, and I, worried sick for him, fought Hawkmoth. I managed to subdue him and took his Miraculous and he changed back into Gabriel Agreste.”

“Chat Noir passed out?”

“Yes, he took a direct hit to the chest and was out for twenty minutes.”

A collective gasp came from the viewing area. The murmurs began anew and melded together into a cacophony that threatened to overshadow the prosecutor’s next question. The president judge held up a hand to bring order.

“This is a courtroom, not a circus. If I hear any more interruptions you will be asked to leave,” he rebuked the audience.

“Did the attack leave any lasting damage to Mr. Chat Noir?”

“No,” Chat Noir piped up.

“And once, you got Mr. Agreste under your control what did you do?”

“I made sure to keep his Miraculous in a safe place and looked after Chat Noir while I waited for the police to arrive,” she answered.

The prosecutor then proceeded to show Ladybug and Chat Noir pictures of the warehouse and the Miraculous. The brooch, photographed under a hard florescent light appeared smaller than its actual size. Rust coated the petals and the metal was bent at the ends. Now a shell of its former glory, the brooch failed to impress or intimidate all who glanced upon it. For an object that had caused so much chaos, it was almost pitiful. 

“And this Miraculous gave Mr. Agreste powers?”

“Yes.”

“And would you know how this particular Miraculous works?”

“I would assume that it uses dark energy,” Chat Noir said.

“Assume?”

“I have no way of knowing for sure. I know that Mr. Agreste used to feed off of negative emotions when choosing his akumas so I wouldn’t be surprised if it worked the same way for his Miraculous. But don’t take my answer to heart. The Miraculouses are a mystery even to me,” Chat Noir’s humor seeped into his answer. A chuckle filled the room. Ladybug stifled a giggle. Over by the dock, Gabriel Agreste glanced curiously at Chat Noir, even surprised. The prosecutor turned to face the judges.

“I have no further questions,” he told them.

“Very well. Does the defense have any questions?”

“Yes,” Gabriel Agreste’s lawyer stepped out towards the podium.

The courtroom’s atmosphere became serious again. Chat Noir gazed over at his father’s personal attorney. It did not surprise him that the lawyer had not abandoned his father after the revelation. This was the same lawyer who had settled all of Gabriel Agreste’s lawsuits and had covered up every crooked deal he made throughout the years. Gabriel Agreste expected the upmost loyalty from his inner circle to the point where he’d drag them down through hell with him.

“Ms. Ladybug. Mr. Chat Noir, when you made plans to go against my client, did you picture him to act in a certain way?” The lawyer asked. 

“Objection, the question leads to speculation,” the prosecutor said in a loud voice.

“Sustained,” came one of the judges’ answer.

“Did Mr. Agreste’s demeanor change after his Miraculous was taken away from him?” The lawyer rephrased his question. 

“He appeared to be remorseful of his actions. He was crying,” Ladybug answered.

Chat Noir held his breath, knowing that the follow up question would ask why Gabriel Agreste, Paris’ most dangerous supervillain would be so shaken by having his Miraculous taken from him. And like a chain of dominos toppling over each other, the questions aimed at the Ladybug and Chat Noir would get uncomfortably close to poking at the relationship between Hawkmoth and Chat Noir and exactly who Chat Noir was. 

“And how did my client act before he was defeated?”

The question both took Ladybug and Chat Noir by surprise. For a second, they were too stunned to answer until Ladybug quickly said:

“He was aggressive. He was determined to do anything he could to get our Miraculouses. Even if it meant killing us.”

“Did my client appear to be under the influence of any illegal substances?”

“No.”

It was at that moment that Chat Noir realized that his father not confided in his lawyer about Ladybug and Chat Noir’s true identities. He slightly tilted his head over at the dock to see how his father was reacting. Gabriel Agreste was tense, as he had been throughout the week, but there was nothing that indicated that he was confused or surprised by how his lawyer was handling the cross examination. 

“I have no further questions,” the lawyer left it at that.

“The people rest,” the prosecutor said.

“Court is adjourned until tomorrow afternoon,” the president judge said.

The judges descended from the bench. The prosecutor picked up his papers from the table and began filing them into his briefcase. The crowd all began to head to the exit. Chat Noir looked back at his father and their eyes met. He squinted, as if to ask why Gabriel Agreste had gone out of his way to keep Chat Noir and Ladybug’s identities a secret even from his lawyer. Gabriel Agreste glanced down, almost as if he was ashamed to look his son in the eye. Chat Noir blinked, turned, and followed Ladybug out of the courtroom.


	34. The Trial Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to put a legal disclaimer on the last chapter so I'll put it here:
> 
> While perjury (intentionally withholding evidence to the court) is a punishable offense in the US, swearing under oath is not required in France. Also here in the US, an attorney cannot work a trial if he or she knows any of the jurors or witnesses for fear of evidence tampering. For obvious reasons for which you will see, there is leeway here when it comes to that rule

_Click-clack. Click-clack._

Nathalie had forgotten how loud a pair of heels sounded. Her steps were light, and she was moving at a slow pace, but the resonant tap- tap lingered in the air as she made her way down the hallway to the holding area. The sound even overpowered the heavy thuds coming from the judicial officials that were flanked beside her. She missed the sound of heels hitting the floor, more than the extra height they gave her. A surge of confidence rushed through her as she walked, knowing that someone tuned into her steps as they eagerly anticipated her arrival. It made her feel important, powerful. _Nathalie is here. Nathalie was here_ The sound proudly echoed around her. It marked her presence in the world and affirmed it with each step. _Nathalie is here. Nathalie was here. Nathalie is coming your way._ It made her feel like a star. For a second she could let herself get lost in the clouds, and forget the tight grip that the judicial official had on her arm, of the questioning that awaited her in the courtroom, the dark and gloomy cell in the women’s prison that she now called home and believe that she was walking down a normal corridor. But Nathalie was never one to lose grip on reality. She snapped back to the present as she as she felt herself sink.

There was no time to stop. The second they reached the holding room the door opened and two other officials trudged in with La Camarde. His surly expression, the way his suit jacket made his shoulders pop out against the fabric, the shackles that stretched across his wrists and ankles, squeezed in between the grip of the two officials, reminded Nathalie of bear- baitings she had to read about for a medieval history course back in lycée. The bear, rendered defenseless, would be dragged out and mauled apart by dogs for a barbaric form of entertainment. It was a demonstration of power, that even man could control and subject nature to his will, and La Camarde, a mercenary for hire now incarcerated, posed less of a threat despite his intimidating appearance. The officials passed Nathalie over and got La Camarde in return to take back with them to prison. Face to face with the man that helped her and Gabriel five years ago, a pang of guilt struck her. But no longer did it send her into a panic and made her want to flee. Sheer will had overcome her and as the doors opened to the courtroom, she felt like a gladiator entering The Colosseum, knowing the odds were against her, sword drawn and waiting until the emperor gave the command for the battle to begin. She would not go down without a fight and was determined to survive. 

The courtroom was packed. The press and other spectators all took up the back two rows and eagerly sat forward in their seats. In the middle, to the annoyance of prominent people in the fashion industry, and to Nathalie’s surprise, sat a group of teenagers from Adrien’s school. She recognized Nino who was sitting on Adrien’s left. To Adrien’s right sat a girl dressed in pink, who would have made Nathalie stop in her tracks if it weren’t for the officials behind her. She quickly glanced at the girl. Long black hair tied up in two pigtails, bright blue eyes, slender features, and an aura about her that made her seem older than her fifteen years, Nathalie was almost convinced that she was looking at Ladybug. But a sharp turn towards the podium and the command for everyone in the courtroom to rise forced the thought to the back of her mind.

“The prosecution calls Ms. Nathalie Sancoeur to the stand.” 

Nathalie’s left hand gripped the edge of the podium. Her right snaked around the base of the microphone. Although she looked straight ahead at the prosecutor and the judges, she could see Gabriel and his lawyer, Pierre over by the dock. She knew that Gabriel was staring at her. It wasn’t the scorching, lustful gaze that used to make her skin prickle back when they were together, nor the cold, stern one that was used to convey his disappointment. The fullness in his eyes expressed surprise. His lips parted, to hang slightly open as if to ask her why, why she, after everything they both had been through, would betray him like this. It was a vulnerability that she had only seen once in the nine years that she had known him, and the reason why they were both here.

“Ms. Sancoeur, how old are you?” Came the prosecutor’s question. 

“Thirty-two,” was her answer.

“And what was your profession before your arrest?”

“I worked as Mr. Agreste’s personal assistant.”

“How long did you work for him?”

“Five years as an assistant, four as his secretary.”

“This put you in close contact with Mr. Agreste am I correct?”

“Yes. I managed both his business and private matters.” 

“To what extent were you close to Mr. Agreste?”

“I was closer to Mr. Agreste than most of his employees normally were.”

“Could you elaborate on that, Ms. Sancoeur?” 

“We had an affair.”

The whispers swirled around the courtroom. Low and speculative, they registered as a jumble of sounds in Nathalie’s ears. But just imagining what they were saying about her sent the guilt bubbling up to the surface again. 

_The other woman. Whore. He killed our darling Marie for this bitch? She just wants her fifteen minutes of fame. She’s just as responsible as he is. She’s worse than he is._

Nathalie could feel the thoughts getting to her. Managing to keep her face as blank as possible, she stared straight ahead and thought of a comeback to each thought.

_Yes, I was the other woman but that doesn’t mean that I deserve to be put down like this. I was young and naïve and he knew that. He was the one who perused me. He was the one who murdered Marie. I helped move her body and cover it up. It is something that I will always regret and probably never will be forgiven for. But if I am ever forgiven, I have to forgive myself first before everyone else can. Because the only person I can truly count on to get through this in order to pay for what I did is **me.**_

A new surge of confidence rushed through Nathalie. She stared straight in the prosecutor’s eyes. 

“How long did this affair last?”

“For three years.”

“Did this affair take place during Mr. Agreste’s marriage to Marie Dupont- Agreste?”

“Yes.”

“Ms. Sancoeur, why were you arrested?”

“I turned myself in for participating in Mrs. Agreste’s murder.”

“Could you expand on that?”

“I helped moved the body so it could be properly disposed of.”

“Could you describe the events of the fifteenth of July 2011?” 

“I received a call in the middle of the night from Mr. Agreste at around 1:00. He said he needed help and that it was an emergency. I went over to his house and the first thing I noticed when I saw him when I pulled into the driveway was that his eyes were shot. His clothes were torn and bloody and he was behaving erratically. I walked over to the front door and there was a dead cat lying there. It scared me. I knew something was terribly wrong.”

“When you say that his eyes were shot, do you mean to say that Mr. Agreste was under the influence of drugs?”

“I thought so at the time. I wanted to get him to a doctor but he refused. I asked if he took anything and figured that he kept his stash in his study. I went upstairs. He tried to stop me. He grabbed my arm. But I shoved him off and opened the door and---”

It was as if Nathalie had stepped foot into the study again. The metallic stench of blood overwhelmed her nostrils. Flashes of white light flashed before her eyes as the outline of Marie’s body sharpened in her view. Her hands gripped the edges of the podium. She took a breath to calm herself down and gazed up at the prosecutor once more.

“His wife was on the floor.”

“She was dead at that point?”

“Yes.”

“Could you describe what her body looked like?”

“She,” Nathalie started nervously. “She was lying in a pool of blood, face up except that her head was tilted to the side. There were cuts and nail shaped punctures all around her neck. Her-her skin had turned blue, but she was still warm.”

“Would you say from the cuts on her neck she had been strangled?”

“Yes," she managed to even out her tone. 

“What did you do next?”

“We moved the bodies out of the house and drove to the outskirts of Paris to meet this man who would dispose of them properly.”

“When you say _bodies_ you are also referring to the cat as well as that of Mrs. Agreste?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how Mr. Agreste got in contact with Mr. Fortier also known as La Camarde?”

“He called him.” 

“Do you know how Mr. Agreste obtained Mr. Fortier’s number?”

“No.”

“Did Mr. Agreste pay Mr. Fortier for his services?”

“Yes. He paid five thousand euros.” 

“And you did not help dispose of the bodies correct?”

“Correct.”

“But you did help fabricate the kidnapping.”

“Yes. I forged a ransom note and placed it in the study. I was careful to make sure that my handwriting wouldn’t be recognizable.”

The prosecutor paused.

“Ms. Sancoeur, has Mr. Agreste ever confided you during, or after the cover-up about why he killed his wife?”

Nathalie thought over the question for as long as the circumstances would allow her to. She had to choose her words carefully. Not only to help convict Gabriel of his crime, but to also keep Marie’s secret as Ms. Purple safe by not mentioning the necklace that had been corrupted for Hawkmoth’s use. Knowing from Adrien’s experiences as Chat Noir, a superhero secret identity could never be revealed even if they were dead.

“He told me that there had been an argument and that he blacked out. He would always claim that it wasn’t his fault, but I figured that he said that as a coping mechanism. His wife’s death took a huge toll on him.”

It was the truth. As unfaithful as Gabriel had been, he adored Marie in a way that Nathalie could not understand. A part of her wanted to look back and see how he reacted to her words, but the prosecutor started to speak again.

“And how has Mrs. Agreste’s death affected you?”

Her emotions surged to the surface. Nathalie blinked back tears. Her voice wavered.

“I wish I could bring the dead back to life. I wish I could go back and time and convince my younger self to ignore that call, but I know I must live with what I have done. Every day I see how my actions have robbed the world of her presence. There are countless designs, clothes, and shows that will never be brought to life, models and designers who will never follow their dreams because their muse, their inspiration, the woman who had done the impossible and reached new heights, is gone. There is a hole in the hearts of her family and friends who cherished her. They will never hear her laugh; they will never see her smile again. They will never be able to share life’s moments with her, and she won’t either. She won’t be there for those who love her. She will never get to see her son, her only child, grow up.”

Hot tears streaked down her cheeks. She raised the knuckle of her thumb to wipe away the tears just underneath her glasses. Her breath came out as a rattling gasp. Static followed each sob as it was broadcast to the rest of the courtroom through the microphone. She could not turn to see how the people behind her in the rows reacted to her words. Would the jury use her story for justice that needed to be served? Would the press twist it to suit their own needs and stir up more drama? Would Adrien, with the new knowledge about the tragedy that shattered his life, would pick up the pieces and put them together to become whole again? 

“You feel remorseful Ms. Sancoeur?”

“Yes. I do,” Nathalie wept. She dried the last of her tears. 

“I have no further questions Your Honors,” the prosecutor finished. 

“May I approach the witness?” Came the lawyer’s nasally voice. 

_Ugh._ Pierre. One of the more unpleasant figures she had to deal with during her days at Agreste. And it was if she were sitting at the office again, listening to the screech that came over the phone as he demanded to be fit into Mr. Agreste’s already full meeting schedule. Staring at the eyesore that was his pinstriped suit (how many of those did he own?) trying not to flinch as he threatened to invade her personal bubble, gesturing wildly as he bragged about how he was Paris’ best civil attorney. Nathalie resisted the urge to let out a groan.

“Ms. Sancoeur. Can I ask you about the exact nature of your relationship with my client?” He asked with a smirk that made Nathalie’s skin crawl.

“Objection. The question has already been answered,” The prosecutor said.

“Sustained.”

“Let me rephrase my question. Ms. Sancoeur, during your affair with Mr. Agreste, did you express any romantic feelings for him?”

“No,” Nathalie answered.

“Did my client express any romantic feelings towards you?”

“He was attracted to me but not romantically.”

“Were you in what they call in lay terms a _sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship?_ ” He sleazily asked. 

“No. I was his mistress,” Nathalie was getting annoyed. 

“Did he ever inform you of any plans to leave his wife for you?”

“No.”

“But you were aware of Mr. and Mrs. Agreste’s marital problems?”

“Yes,” she gritted through her teeth.

“Ms. Sancoeur there must have been a reason you stayed with my client.”

“Objection. The question is argumentative,” the prosecutor quickly said. Nathalie could hear the annoyance layered underneath.

“Sustained.”

“Ms. Sancoeur did you feel any attachment of any kind towards my client?”

She glanced over at Gabriel for the first time during the testimony. He raised his head and tilted his head at her. His stern gaze softened, wide eyes, pleading for her to help. A younger Nathalie might have been scared, but now she knew better. She wouldn’t let him drag her down any longer. She turned back towards Pierre with a glare.

“The attachment, _Pierre_ was only based on a mutual sexual need. Nothing more,” she spat at him. 

“Objection. The questions are both inflammatory and immaterial,” the prosecutor piped up, clearly annoyed. 

“Sustained,” the judges also appeared to be fed up.

Pierre’s half thought out attempts to humanize Gabriel had failed miserably. With a frustrated look, he gazed up at the judges with those beady eyes of his.

“I have no further questions,” he informed them. 

“Court is adjourned.” 

The public began to disperse. The judges dismounted from the bench. The prosecutor began filling papers into his briefcase while a very distraught Gabriel shouted something at Pierre before being dragged away by four judicial officials. It was Nathalie’s turn to smirk. As she was led from the courtroom, the officials gripped her arm just as tightly as before, but Nathalie kept her head held high. The stomps that came from the heels hitting the floor sounded like a victory march in her ears. She felt like a gladiator, triumphant, on a winning streak. True freedom was a far off goal, but Nathalie felt for the first time in a long time that the past was behind her.


	35. The Screen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: There is some brief, graphic dialogue at the beginning of the chapter

Faded black, stained gray, off- white, clear. What an unoriginal and repetitive use of color. Perhaps a merry long time ago, Gabriel would, with a sweeping glance over the visiting room, and a wrinkle of his nose, crack a joke about the interior designer of this prison must have been a garbage man because it was a _dump._ Now, his eyes were fixed forward in a blank stare at the screen in front of him as he took a seat. The wrinkle of his nose came out as a sniff. And the only ones present were the two guards who hovered over him, and the scowls they wore clearly said that they did not want to associate with him at all. 

The isolation was driving him crazy. He spent his days shut in his cell. The excursions to court were a godsend, and came too little too often. He craved for an interaction other than the arguments with his lawyer or the terse grunts that the guards barked at him. The judges claimed it was for his own good. The day Gabriel arrived, the guards made a point to parade him through the general population while it was on lockdown. Still in shock that he had lost, in the middle of a bad comedown from coke that made his skin crawl, and rattled from the humiliating and invasive process of getting booked, the guards had to push him forward to get him to move. The second Gabriel stepped foot through the doors, the entire cellblock was thrown into an uproar. Bony fingers jabbed the air at his direction. Hands slid through the bars in an attempt to grab him. The sound of fists pounding against the walls and bars made Gabriel’s head feel like it was going to split open. In his feverish haze the inmates’ faces were distorted: with bulging eyes, skin that flushed an overly saturated red underneath the light’s glare, sharp jagged teeth that protruded from snarling mouths. Gabriel’s body began to shake and he tensed up as their threats reached his ears.

_I’m gonna kill you!_   
_Hawkmoth!_   
_This skinny thing’s Hawkmoth?_   
_You fucked up my life you sick son of a bitch!_   
_Hey pretty boy!_   
_I’ll take those glasses and shove ‘em in your eyes!_   
_My cousin ain’t the same ‘cause of you!_   
_Let’s hang ‘im from the ceiling!_   
_You come over here and suck my cock!_   
_I’ll slice ya open and wrap ya guts ‘round ya neck!_   
_You get in mah way you’s a dead man!_   
_I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’ shit for weeks!_   
_Wen I find you Ima bash ya head against da wall til ya got none lef’!_

He had no power here. There was no magic to cast an illusion of grandeur. He was no longer Hawkmoth, Paris’ most feared villain, who preyed on people’s fears and bent them to his will. He was only Gabriel Agreste, a man just like any other. Ordinary. Pitiful. Weak. A laughingstock in the eyes of even the most hardened criminals and scared out of his mind. 

A buzz from the other side of the visiting room snapped Gabriel from his thoughts. The door slid open and in walked---

_Adrien?_

The boy wasted no time. He crossed the room, pulled out the chair, took a seat, adjusted position, and reached for the little black phone that hung on his left side, all the while avoiding his father’s gaze. His hand lingered on the phone before bringing it off the hook and up to his ear. There came a click. Gabriel picked up the phone. 

“Father,” came Adrien’s voice.

Through the screen, Gabriel saw Adrien take a quick breath. The sound lagged through the phone. Adrien lifted his head up and stared right at his father.

“I want the truth,” Adrien’s voice had a coolness to it that Gabriel had never heard before. If the tone were a little deeper and more mature, Gabriel could have sworn that he was listening to himself speak.

“I told you the truth. I wasn’t lying to you then,” he answered. 

Adrien continued to stare at Gabriel. The screen propped up between them only intensified the severity of Adrien’s gaze. Gabriel felt uncomfortable. He tightened his grip on the phone.

“You must think I’m a madman,” Gabriel said. 

Silence. Static. Adrien still said nothing. Gabriel yanked on the phone’s coil. The desperation rose inside of him as he addressed the screen.

“Adrien. Do you really believe that I wanted to hurt your mother? I _loved_ her. What happened that night, it wasn’t me, it was that thing, that _parasite---_ ”

“Don’t use that excuse with me. You still did what you did,” Adrien curtly interrupted him. 

“I’d never _dream_ of hurting her! I’d rather kill _myself_ first before even laying a hand on her!” Gabriel exclaimed.

“You only think that’s the only way to hurt a person? What about back then when I was a kid? All those times you and mom argued, did you ever think you were hurting her? How about when you cheated on her, huh?” Adrien accused. 

“You do not _understand._ I could have left your mother at any time for Nathalie but I _didn’t,_ ” Gabriel pointed out. 

“There you go again. Pulling excuses out of your ass. Do you think just because I’m fifteen that I don’t understand what it _could_ be like to love with another person. You know what, I think you never _were_ in love with mom. You only loved the _idea_ of being in love with her,” Adrien spat. 

Gabriel’s free hand slammed on the table. He violently leaned in. 

“Your mother meant the **world** to me!” Gabriel shouted.

Adrien flinched back in his seat. The guard rushed forward and quickly restrained Gabriel. 

“Calm down!” 

“Why do you think I made purple my signature color?” Gabriel’s arm jutted into his chest. The head of the phone knocked against his mouth. “Have all my models copy her walk? Went out of my way, even when I was busy, to celebrate every birthday, and all our anniversaries? Gave her everything she ever wanted? Went along with every single plan she had?”

“But what about the ones she wanted for _me?_ ” Adrien angrily pointed out.

“Adrien, I just wanted to protect our family---“ Gabriel started. 

“That was you just being _selfish!_ ” Adrien’s words grated through the telephone. “All this _shit_ you put me and mom through was just because you had to have everything your way!”

“That’s not _true!_ ” Gabriel exclaimed.

“I’ve always had to do whatever you wanted why can’t **I** be the selfish one for **once!** ” Adrien shrieked. 

_Clang_

Gabriel saw the phone slip through Adrien’s hands. Tears streamed down Adrien’s face. His mouth opened to let out a cry. The vibrations pounded against the screen. Gabriel stopped thrashing about. His heart sank. 

“Adrien. Adrien please don’t cry,” Gabriel did not know how to console him. He had not done so since Adrien was a small child and the act felt foreign to him. He felt helpless watching his son cry, unable to reach out because of a pair of sturdy arms holding him back, and a screen that prevented him from having any contact with the only person Gabriel had left in the world. 

It took a while before his son composed himself with what looked like a hiccup and picked up the phone again. He gazed up at his father with puffy, red eyes. 

“Adrien. Why do you think I kept on deluding myself about the truth? It’s because I see her in _you._ You’re _our_ child. You’re the only person I have left in this world. I _love_ you.”

Gabriel couldn’t remember the last time he had told his son that he loved him. He didn’t even remember if his own parents ever told them that they outwardly cared. His father was not an affectionate man. Possibly hardened by his own upbringing during the Second World War and its aftermath, Charles Agreste carried himself as the patriarch of the house. He believed that children should be seen and not heard, punishment and fear were the only methods to keep them in line, and that the parent’s word was law. His mother, Margueritte, spoiled Gabriel because he was the eldest and only son, but not all of her tenderness was genuine. Having settled down with an older man, and stuck in a small town on the outskirts of Paris, she resented that her youth and any opportunity to get ahead in life had been snatched away from her. To cope, she threw herself into the popularity contest of domestic life. A beautifully planted garden, homemade clothing for the children based on the latest fashions, a stellar recipe cooked to wow the neighbors, it was all for _her_ betterment and no one else’s. As an adult, Gabriel had distanced himself from his parents as he made his way out in the world, but it was now, watching Adrien process his words; that he realized that their influence still had a strong hold on him. 

“I don’t want to hurt you more than I have. Do you at least believe that?” Gabriel anxiously asked. 

“Yes,” came Adrien’s low voice over the phone. 

A pause. Adrien blinked. He gazed through the screen at Gabriel. 

“I wish I could still love you dad,” Adrien wistfully said. He moved his chair back and got up. 

“Will you come again, son?” 

Adrien’s had his back turned to his father. There came another buzz, the door opened, and he exited the room. 

Gabriel reached out to place his hand on the screen. Before his fingertips could brush against the surface, the guard pulled him back.


	36. The Trial Part 3

####  9 January, 2017 

_I never thought it would all end up here_

After months of deliberating the jury would finally give their verdict on Gabriel Agreste. As Adrien made his way up the steps of the courthouse, he thought back to how his life had been turned upside down within a year. It had been a whirlwind of chaos, surprise, tears, and anger, and yet here he was, still standing, even _thriving_ despite the odds. Now newly sixteen, emancipated in the eyes of the French law, and back to balancing school and superhero life, things were slowly starting to go back to how it used to be. It was almost easy to slip into the routine of normal life and forget about the tragedy, but Adrien knew that in order to be whole again, he had to acknowledge the good and the bad and learn to live with them. And today was one of those days where the fine line between the good and the bad blurred. It would be a day of celebration and mourning. Of resolutions and loose ends. Of looking ahead to the future yet clinging tightly to the past. 

He had reached the entrance of the courthouse. The palm of his hand pressed against the glass. The _woosh_ of the revolving doors pushed him inside. He looked back at the street behind him. 

_If I had not stood up to my father at that photoshoot, would I have spent the rest of my life not knowing the truth about my parents?_

But what was done was done and there was no going back. The door slid to reveal an empty slot and Adrien stepped through.

*************************************************************************************************************************** 

Journalists occupied the back two rows with their phones and notepads at the ready. Video camera cables crisscrossed the wooden floor. Adrien’s heels arched as he stepped over them, careful not to bump into the groups of people who were talking amongst themselves. A bright red spotted with black stuck out from the dull colors of business suits that the press wore. Ladybug was sitting in the third row and Adrien’s pace picked up as he headed over to her. A familiar voice calling his name made him stop in his tracks. A turn, and his eyes widened with surprise. In the second row sat his grandmother Marguerite, his aunts Pauline and Isabelle, and his grandparents Thomas and Helene. Adrien had not seen so many extended family members in the same place since his mother disappeared. He had expected his grandparents to show up but not his aunts who had come all the way from Nice and Switzerland. With a quick nod to acknowledge Ladybug he went up to them with an overjoyed shout. There came the hugs, the kisses. The how are you’s? How’s school? What is new? How are the cousins? How are my uncles? Adrien noticed that all the adults were making an effort to never let the conversation go beyond small talk. Conveniently skirting around the reason why they were here. Avoiding mentioning Marie in front of Helene and Thomas. Diverting to a new topic whenever when the tension that ran between Marguerite and her daughters threatened to boil over into an argument. Adrien felt uncomfortable. He wished that his family, particularly his grandmother Marguerite, would stop covering up their pain just for the sake of keeping up good appearances. They were all hurting. Instead of shutting each other out with a wall of empty words and fluff, why couldn’t they just tear it down and come together to heal? And then, when Adrien was considering saying something, his Aunt Isabelle broke yet another awkward pause.

“Helene. Thomas. About Marie, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about what my brother did to her. It’s something that no parent should go through and what he did is absolutely unforgivable. And I understand completely if after this you do not want anything to do with us—“

“For goodness sake Isabelle do you want to make them more upset than they already are?” Marguerite criticized her.

“Does that mean I can’t offer my condolences?” Isabelle shot back.

“Yes but you should do it more _tactfully._ Why do you always have to be so blunt Isabelle? You’re just like your father. And no matter how many times I’ve tried to make him more civilized he just wouldn’t _listen_ to me,” Marguerite ranted.

“Mother. I’m _forty- six years old._ I have a life and children of my own. Why do you always insist on still treating me like a _child?_ ” Anger seeped in Isabelle’s voice. 

“Isabelle dear, it wasn’t your fault,” Helene piped up. “You had nothing to do with her death. You’re not your brother. He, and he alone is responsible for his own actions. No one, not you, me, our daughter, could have predicted this happening.”

“Don’t forget that our little girl had a child of her own who has your blood running through his veins. For good or bad, family is family. We all have to stick together to work through this,” Thomas added. 

The doors to the far end of the courtroom opened and the officials led Gabriel in. A hush fell over the room. Helene clung to Thomas’ arm and wept. A grieved expression crossed his face as he glared at Gabriel. He too, wept. Pauline and Isabelle, like their nephew, stoically looked on. Marguerite’s hand shot to her mouth and she burst into sobs.

“Oh Gabriel! Why would you do such a thing? I had faith in you. You were the _only_ one who bought success to our family and now you’re just going to _throw_ it all away?”

Gabriel’s face paled as the sound of his mother’s voice reached his ears. He glanced over at the second row and shamefully turned away. He officials forced him into the dock. 

“And she forgets about us _again_ ,” Pauline angrily muttered under her breath.

“I raised you to be better than this! My son! My _only_ son!” Marguerite cried. 

“What do you think dad would have thought?” Isabelle said as an aside to Pauline. They didn’t know that Adrien heard.

Adrien never met his grandfather Charles who had died of cancer a few years before he was born. From what little he managed to piece together from his family, his grandfather did not seem like a pleasant man to be around. 

“Let’s just be grateful he’s not here to make things worse,” Pauline answered.

The judges walked in and the final part of the trial began. Adrien could feel the anticipation rising in the room through the introductory remarks. The press sat at the edge of their seats, waiting for the cue to release the verdict to the world. Behind him, Ladybug was intently following the judges’ every single word. His maternal grandparents clung to each other, both anxious to find out if their daughter’s death had been in vain or not. Then the main juror was asked to approach the podium. There came the click of the cameras. The juror took out an envelope and opened it before facing the judges.

“Have you, the jury reached a verdict?” 

There was a tense pause as the main juror leaned closer towards the microphone and said:

“We find Mr. Gabriel Agreste as known as Hawkmoth to be… guilty.” 

Elated shouts broke the silence. The room rose to a standing ovation and applauded the jury. People: friends, coworkers, strangers alike reached out for each other to share the victory together. The press furiously recorded every second that passed, eager to capture the moment, and release the news to the outside world. 

“Order! Order in the court!” One of the judges tried to get the room to calm down.

Meanwhile, a devastated Gabriel sunk down in his seat. Hands covering his face, arms dangling over the knees that jutted in close to his chest, he violently sobbed. The sight made Adrien burst into tears. He let himself mourn all that he had lost. A mother. A father. A blissful innocence that he knew he could never get back. But for the first time in a long time, Adrien did not feel alone. As reached out to his family for support with a glance back at Ladybug, he knew that he did not have to go through the pain alone. He had people in his life to count upon, and with that realization, he knew he could finally move on.

************************************************************************************************************************************************** 

_Gabriel Agreste “Hawkmoth” Sentenced To Life In Prison_

Nathalie glanced up from the worn and faded letters on the newspaper. Her lips stretched into a smile, something that not happened since before she had been sentenced to her own stint in jail. A hoarse laugh filled the cell and she found that the unused action made her throat string, but she didn’t stop. Tears of joy welled in her eyes as she glanced up at the drab, cracked ceiling and whispered:

“It’s over. It’s _finally_ over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _One more chapter left guys!_


	37. The Reflection

#### February 2027 

“Ok. So we’re gonna take this pipe-cleaner and make it the stem…”

Adrien was careful to explain the process at a slow pace, making sure that the eight year old girl would be able to copy his movements. He paused to let her tie two other green pipe cleaners to make the leaves. Her movements were quick and rushed. The pipe cleaners slipped through her fingers as she attached them. She was getting frustrated with her work.

“Hey Kara, having trouble there?” He asked.

“It’s too hard! I can’t do this!” Kara exclaimed. She clutched the pipe cleaners in her hand, ready to hurl it down onto the table. 

“But you’re doing a great job! You tied them together,” Adrien pointed at the green pipe-cleaners that looped around the stem. “It doesn’t look good. It’s all droopy. I can’t give dad something ugly like this,” she sighed.

Adrien slouched a little in his seat so that his forearms rested on the table. Staring eye to eye with Kara, he gently asked:

“We could fix the flower up to make it look better. Would you like me to help you?”

The girl fiddled with the pipe-cleaners before giving him an answer.

“Ok.”

Her answer pleasantly surprised Adrien. When Kara was first referred to Dr. Martin and by extension his intern Adrien, her mother told them that Kara would have terrible meltdowns, and shut people out whenever she got upset. These past couple of months, they had been working on encouraging Kara to open up and face her negative feelings in a healthy way. What had just happened was a breakthrough. It was small, yet remarkable. 

“Here, let me show you something,” Adrien held out his hand and waited for her permission to take the pipe-cleaners. She handed her stem and leaves to them.

“The great thing about pipe-cleaners is that they’re bendy. You just have to move them about just like this,” he demonstrated. “And like this, and _violà_ they’ll stay up! Do you want to try?”

He pushed down the leaves to make them loose again and gave the stem back to Kara. He watched as she pinched and pushed the pipe-cleaners up. When she was done she broke out into a wide, toothy, smile.

“I did it!” She exclaimed. 

“That’s great! Now on to the next part…”

By the time Adrien and Kara had put the finishing touches on the pipe-cleaner flowers, the therapy session was over. There was a bounce in Kara’s step as she ran over to her mother in the waiting room.

“Mom! Look what I made with Mr. Adrien!” She proudly showed off the flower.

“Wow! What a pretty flower,” her mother responded.

“I’m gonna give it to dad when we visit him,” Kara informed her.

“I’m sure he’ll love it,” Adrien could pick up the underlying sadness in the mother’s voice. As Kara gathered her coat and backpack, he and her mother discussed the progress she had made.

“I am forever grateful for what you and Dr. Martin have done for her,” the mother admitted. “Ever since my husband’s cancer became terminal and he moved to hospice, I worried so much about how Kara would cope. I know that’s there nothing we can do to prevent---“ Her voice faltered. “What will come, but at least I know that it will be just a little easier on her since she can open up again. We’ve been trying to do the best we can to cherish these last moments together as a family. I really want to hope that the visit tomorrow isn’t the last but you never know,” the mother blinked back tears. 

Adrien placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. The mother took a deep breath and managed to smile.

“Thank you.”

Adrien watched as mother and daughter walked out of the waiting room hand in hand. He turned into the back hallway and returned to the office. He glanced about the room and sighed. 

It was not often that Adrien had a moment to just step back and relax. Between balancing graduate school, the internship, his duties as Chat Noir, and life with (his fiancèe!) Marinette, he savored those little moments. And as Adrien crossed the room to sort out the files on the desk, he thought back to the outrage five years ago when he announced that he was quitting modeling for good to focus on his studies. Everyone thought he was mad. _But you’re Agreste’s star! Why would you leave all that fame and fortune behind? Do you really want to leave your family’s legacy behind?_ But Adrien knew the time was now or never. He had to take full control over his life or he would be tied down ball and chain to the fashion world forever. Of course, it didn’t mean he had cut all ties. He gladly modeled for any show Marinette hosted, and was more than willing to discuss the issues that plagued the fashion industry in his psychology classes, and in the rare interviews he gave (he had done his whole undergrad thesis on body image and the media). And after the shock died down, Adrien, for the first time, learned what it was like to have a normal life. Well _almost._ He wasn’t willing to give up being Chat Noir any time soon.

A buzz broke Adrien’s chain of thoughts. He looked over to see that he had gotten a new text message. He picked up his phone and grinned. Even though he and Marinette had been together for about eight years, he still felt just as love struck as he did when they were just teenagers. His heart fluttered as he read the text. 

_< 3L<3: Hey sweetie I’m on my way over to the doctor’s. Meet you there!_

He brought his phone closer to him as he started to type out his response. With a brief glance at the text, he hit send.

_Just about to leave. I can’t wait too! ^ ^_

Adrien clicked out of the text app. He briefly gazed at his lockscreen wallpaper: the selfie of him and Marinette smiling up at the camera with their arms around each other, and pocketed his phone.

********************************************************* 

The thief was getting away with the painting and the superheroine Metamorphosis was on his trail. She ran through the puddles in her way, feeling the chilly rainwater splash up onto the purple leggings of her costume. The thief’s car turned onto the main row and she skidded to a halt. With a quick motion, she kicked back and leapt up into the air. Two black butterfly wings shot out from the fabric pouch on her shoulder blades and expanded out. She soared up high, hoping that it was cloudy enough to give her cover. The rain pelted her. The cold, hard droplets made her flinch. They drenched her costume, making the fabric stick uncomfortably to her skin, and threatened to undo the bun sitting at the top of her head that miraculously still held up. With a bird’s eye view, she saw the car make a sharp right towards the dock and she dove down. Metamorphosis braced herself and touched ground on the hood of the thief’s car. The thief jolted back in his seat with a yell. He violently swerved the car. The motion nearly sent her rolling off the hood but she clung onto the side mirror and forced herself back up. With one hand on the hood of the car, the other tightened into a fist. 

**“Purify!”** She called upon the power of her kwami, Moira.

The purple light shot out from her fingertips and she aimed it at the car window. The butterfly phased through without making a dent and settled on the thief’s chest before being absorbed in. The car’s speed slowed and eventually pulled over. The thief sat back and looked up at Metamorphosis. His hands shot out to surrender. The superhero slid down from the car hood, and took out her outdated iphone 6 to place the call to the cops. 

Word quickly got out that Paris’ most elusive superhero had saved the day by herself again. Civilians and news teams alike showed up with the police as they swarmed in to take the thief and painting into custody. She was bombarded from all sides from the second she finished talking to the police.

_Metamorphosis! Metamorphosis! You’re amazing! I’m your biggest fan! How did you do that? Metamorphosis would you care for an interview? Tell me more about yourself? Where’s Chat Noir today? Will you and Ladybug and Chat Noir team up again? We haven’t seen Ladybug in about a month, do you know where she is? Hey! Hey! Ms. Metamorphosis!_

And as the butterfly charm that dangled from her necklace let out a beep to signal that she would transform back soon, Metamorphosis was anxious to leave. She politely but firmly informed the crowd that she was a busy hero who had places to go to. She turned to leave.

“Metamorphosis! You’re my hero!” Someone shouted.

A smile broke through her stoic expression. She looked back and nodded.

“I’m just doing my job,” she gave her usual answer, but the slight raise in her pitch showed that she was touched by the fan’s words.

Metamorphosis took to the skies again and circled above Paris until her destination was in sight. She landed and quickly darted into a back alley to take refugee from the rain and to hide her identity. A bright white light flashed through the gray color of the sky and Metamorphosis’ superhero persona dissolved to reveal a forty-two year old woman, dressed in a red turtleneck, black slacks, and one inch heels, patting the top of the bun that held up her jet black hair to make sure it was still up. Nathalie Sancoeur looked out from behind the wall to see that the coast was clear. It was, and with a glance up and the sky and down at her reflection in one of the puddles on the sidewalk, she found that the heavy downpour had turned to drizzle within the minute she had detransformed. She adjusted her purse and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The water rippled as she made her way through the puddle. 

_Click-clack. Click-clack._

Five years ago when Nathalie was released from prison she could not wait to go back to a normal life. She hoped that she would be able to shake off the fifteen minutes of fame that came with being linked to Gabriel Agreste and fade into obscurity. But life, she discovered, worked in curious ways. Her first night as a free woman she returned to her old apartment to find a strange, butterfly shaped creature sitting on her kitchen table, next to a necklace that for a moment made her heart drop. With a yelp, Nathalie reached for a wooden spoon on the kitchen counter to swat it away. Just as she was about to bring the spoon down on the butterfly, the being held its arm up and said in a high pitched voice:

_“Nathalie don’t worry. I know you’re confused. I know you’re scared. I am **too.** ”_

The beings plead for help struck a chord deep inside her. Nathalie placed the spoon down on the table and pulled up a chair. She listened intently as the being told her tale. Her name was Moira. She had already been acquaintanced with Nathalie, through the brief glimpses from her former partners Marie and Gabriel. But what she saw wasn’t the full story. She knew that their views of Nathalie were tainted, full of bias, too black and too white to comprehend the complexity behind her. She wanted the chance to know the _real_ Nathalie. To work with, befriend her, to have a chance to finally right the wrongs that both of them wanted to fix.

_We could change together. We can transform into something great. Like a **metamorphosis.** _

Whenever trouble arose, Nathalie was ready. She had her excuses all lined out to explain her absence or tardiness when her employers at the bookstore she worked at, confused friends, or the rare date or two confronted her about it. She took no time to transform and would arrive on the scene just before the situation would turn catastrophic. Sometimes, she fought alone. Other times, Ladybug or Chat Noir would join her, and whenever the three of them battled the latest monster of the week, it was a spectacle for all of Paris to see. After a hard day’s work, Nathalie and Moira rewarded themselves. Fresh, plump grapes for the kwami, a hot cup of tea, or a glass of white wine for Nathalie, the two of them laughing over something silly as they stared out of the living room window to gaze at the city they helped keep safe. And then in the morning, the adventure would start all over again, and she would be ready, like she always was. 

_Click-clack._

She had not even pressed the doorbell when she heard footsteps coming from the other side. There came a click and Adrien appeared. A creature of habit, he still dressed in the exact same style of white button down shirt and blue jeans just like when he was a teenager, alternating it with t-shirts that Marinette made herself, or that Nathalie bought him. 

“Hey!” He exclaimed, greeting her with a hug. 

“Hey! Sorry I’m a bit late someone stole from the Louvre again,” Nathalie apologized.

“Eh don’t worry about it,” Adrien said. “Hey Moira!”

Moira popped out from Nathalie’s bag. Adrien’s finger reached out to wrap around her body.

“Hello,” she nuzzled against his finger.

They went inside. The second thing to greet Nathalie was a tantalizing smell from the kitchen area. The oven was on, steam rose from a pot on the stove, and in a pan were a mix of sautéed vegetables. Her mouth watered and she took her usual spot at the kitchen table to get a closer look at what was cooking. Marinette’s fashion sketches and Adrien’s books for his graduate class were scattered about the table. At the end sat a stack of plates and glasses, ready to be placed. Adrien quickly swooped in.

“Oh hang on. I was about to clear that up,” he scrambled about, piling papers and books into the crook of his arm. His free hand unsteadily balanced the plates.

“Here let me help you with that,” Nathalie took the plates from his hand. She started to set the table. A sudden voice from behind nearly made her jump.

“Hey four eyes good ta see ya!” Plagg exclaimed. He flew right in front of her.

“Plagg! You can’t call Nathalie four eyes it isn’t nice,” Tikki caught up with him. “Sorry about that,” she apologized for him.

“Oh don’t mind. His words can’t hurt me. After all, he’s too much of a scaredy cat to actually make fun of people,” Nathalie said in a snarky tone. 

“Hey!” Plagg playfully exclaimed. He and Tikki flew in close to Nathalie to give her a hug. Moira joined them and the three kwamis began to talk amongst themselves.

Light footsteps made Nathalie look up. She saw Marinette arrive from the hallway. The ends of her bob haircut bounced against her ears as she stepped in. Her loose pink shirt curved against the small bump that was her lower belly as she grinned up at Nathalie and rushed over. With a grin she rushed over to Nathalie.

“Hey! How are you?” Marinette hugged her.

“Doing great. How about you? Superbaby?” Nathalie asked with a glance down at Marinette’s pregnant belly. 

“Ah busy as always. Trying to kick myself to finish the last set of designs before the deadline and I hope I can. And guess who’s also kicking?” Marinette placed a hand on her stomach.

“Superbaby?”

“Yep _she’s_ a feisty one! I wonder where she gets it from?” Marinette wondered out loud.

“You,” Adrien called out from the fridge as he filled up two glasses with wine and one with water.

“Nah, it’s definitely you,” Marinette said with a giggle. 

“Wait. _She?_ You already know?” Nathalie excitedly said. 

“We went to the doctor yesterday and we got the ultrasound pics. Tikki kept on telling me she already knew the baby was a girl but I wasn’t so sure.”

“To be fair, Moira told me she suspected that the baby was a girl and I took her word for it,” Tikki clarified.

“What?” Marinette and Nathalie were both surprised.

“Oh come on I had to keep it a secret. I didn’t wanna spoil it for you guys,” Moira explained. 

“Does anyone else know?” Nathalie asked. 

“Nope. You’re the first one,” Adrien walked in and set the glasses on the table.

“Well what an honor,” Nathalie chuckled. 

“Wanna see the pictures?”

Adrien and the three kwamis crowded around Nathalie and Marinette. There came the coos, the oohs and the aahs as Marinette flipped through each photo. Fingers pointed, traced the outline of the curled up baby, speculating on how she’d look like when she was born.

“So you guys are narrowing down on names?” Nathalie asked.

“Oh we already know. Her name’s Marie,” Marinette said.

“Oh, your mom would be very happy to know her granddaughter would be named after her,” Nathalie softly said.

“Yeah she would,” Adrien agreed. “Do you want to know the middle name? We put a lot of thought into it and decided that it should be named after another special person in my life, who means a lot to me. Who’s seen the best and the worst, who has stood by me despite the circumstances. And has become my family when I had none,” his voice wavered at the end.

“Sure,” Nathalie said.

“It’s _you_ Nathalie.”

It took a while for Nathalie to process what Adrien just said. Her eyes widened. She sharply inhaled, and a hand clasped over her mouth.

“Me?” She heard how high the pitch of her voice had become. She blinked, feeling a warmth stir in her heart.

Marinette placed her hand on Nathalie’s.

“We want you to be the baby’s godmother,” she told her.

The tears began to flow. With a gasp, Nathalie squeezed Marinette’s hand and gazed up at her with an overjoyed grin.

“I would be so honored to—to be there, to—to play an important---to be the baby’s godmother. Yes. Yes!” She fumbled for the right words to describe the happiness she felt. With a half cry, half laugh, Nathalie reached out and pulled Adrien and Marinette into a tight embrace. The room became silent. The three kwamis looked over at their heroes, also overjoyed as they celebrated together. Finally the three humans broke off. Adrien picked up the two glasses and handed them to Marinette and Nathalie. They raised their glasses.

“To Marie!” Adrien exclaimed.

“To Marie!” Nathalie and Marinette clinked their glasses against Adrien’s.

“To Marie!” Having no glass of her own, Tikki placed her hand on the glasses to join in.

“For Marie!” Moira sat on Nathalie’s shoulder and leaned against her neck.

“Huzzah! Huzzah!” Plagg chimed in, waving his arms about dramatically.

Everyone laughed. Adrien and Nathalie sipped their wine. Marinette picked up her water. An animated conversation started and Nathalie took a moment to stop and savor the warmth, the sense of belonging she felt when with Adrien, Marinette, their kwamis, and Moira. Life wasn’t normal but Nathalie knew she wouldn’t change it. Not for the world.

*********************** 

Gabriel’s cracked, dry hands clung to the sides of the letter. He held it right up in front of the face, the only way he could see anything clearly now. He couldn’t remember how long it had been when they took his glasses away. The days dragged on in this maximum security that he called hell. Where he wasted his days, staring blankly up at the ceiling from his bed, aimlessly pacing back and forth from the stretch of white brick wall to the other. The paper they slid under his cell door was a welcome diversion. He felt something when he picked it up. Something that didn’t make him feel so empty. 

_Father, My fiancé Marinette is expecting a baby. We’re naming her Marie. I thought I would let you know. Your son, Adrien._

Upon reading the words he felt that something again. The letter slipped from his fingers. It fell on the mattress, curling up at the ends. His hollow blue eyes blinked. His chapped lips parted and a noise broke the still silence of the cell. The noise came again, as a whimper until his mouth widened just enough to put syllables together.

“Ma—rie,” Gabriel’s throat strained from the effort it took to form a single word. He had not talked in months. He slowly lifted his hand. It grazed briefly on the stubble on his cheeks. His already pale face turned ghostly white. His lips stretched again into a frown. 

“Ma-rie,” he hoarsely whispered. 

The feeling rattled about him. He could feel it twist his heart, tugging it down to the depths, paralyzing his whole body save the stormy waters in his eyes that threatened to overflow.

“Marie. My… little…butterfly.“

His arms lay face up on his knees. His body shook as a sob escaped his lips. His hands curled up. The sleeve of his shirt rolled up. He gripped at the edge, his nails digging into the fabric, obscuring the faded white line that ran across his wrist. He gave his sleeve a squeeze. His throat tightened. With a hiccup he glanced up at the camera that towered above in the right hand corner. They were watching. He knew his actions were being broadcast to all the screens in the control room. He imagined that some of them were laughing, that they welcomed his sobbing figure as a diversion from the other boring footage they had to review. The others were intently studying him. Scrutinizing him, grabbing the phone, fingers hovering over some button or other to send out the alert, already jumping to the conclusion that the next thing they would have to take away from him would be his shirt. So Gabriel curled up on the bed and faced his back to the camera. He rocked himself back and forth as the sobs racked him. Teardrops dripped down his cheeks and blotted the letter that lay by his side.

************************************************************************************************************* 

#### 5 March, 2027 

Adrien held the bouquet of violets in front of him. He trudged through the grass, swerving through the patch of graves until he reached the one he had been looking for. Unlike the others, the stone was still intact. It was not cracked, nor faded from the elements. It gave a glossy sheen as the late winter sunlight shone over it. The epitaph had been carved out in big blocky letters with the inscription underneath in neat cursive:

_Marie Angeline Dupont-Agreste 5 March 1979- 15 July 2011_  
_An inspiration. Trail blazer. Loving mother. And hero to all._

“Hey mom. Happy birthday. I bought you some flowers,” Adrien sat down on the grass in front of the tombstone. He placed the bouquet on the ground. His hand then went to the side of the stone. He knew there was nothing buried underneath. That the ashes that made up his mother’s body had been scattered in the forest ground the night she died. But it gave him comfort to have a marker to indicate that she had a life. A rich, beautiful one, that touched the hearts of everyone she met.

“I’m almost done with my thesis. I only have one page left to write. And my internship---“

His voice echoed over the sound of the wind. He could feel the cold nipping at his cheeks, but Adrien did not pull his scarf up to shield his face. He kept on talking, telling the tombstone about all the little things that had happened to him in the past month since he visited last. He imagined that his mother was sitting right there in front of him, taking in every word that he said, her warm green eyes full of joy at how much her son had grown. Whenever he would stop to think, catch his breath, he listened to how the wind whistled around him. It made him remember his mother’s voice, how melodious it sounded, how soothing it was to his ears. And he’d glance back at the tombstone to pick up back where he left off, he let the sadness sink in. Grief, as he learned through his own self-reflection in therapy the first few years after his mother’s death, and in his study at university, could not be ignored or confronted outright. One could choose stay in their little bubble of denial and go on as if nothing had changed, just as easily as another person might succumb to their sorrow and drown in the depths below. Adrien had to learn how to live with his grief. He envisioned it like an unwanted roommate that lurked in the back room of his mind. He knew that no matter how many times he would try to push his grief to the back of his mind, like a stubborn roommate, it would only stomp about and try to expand their space from their little corner of Adrien’s mind. And so, Adrien decided to set his boundaries. He acknowledged that his grief was there. He let it have its own little space, gave it a tombstone where he could remember his mother, and Adrien would venture out here and invite that pesky roommate out from the corner of his mind so they could both heal together. 

“Me and Mari finally know that we’re going to be having a girl. We’re naming her after you mom. I can’t wait to meet her. I can’t wait to see what my little girl will be like. And I—I wish she—I wish she could meet you. She would love you just as much as I love you and I know you’d adore her from the bottom of your heart.”

Adrien wept. He did not care if anyone saw and judged him. Cemeteries were designed to be places were pent up emotions could be realized. What people expressed, their anger, joy, sadness, love, came from the heart, in hopes that they reached of the soul of their beloved resting below or above.  
The knuckle of Adrien’s glove lifted up to wipe at the tears that streaked down his cheeks. He smiled: the same toothy grin that he knew his mother would recognize instantly, one thing that had not changed about him since he was a child. He took a deep breath and reached out to touch the tombstone again. 

“Well,I hope you have a wonderful birthday mom. I miss you. I love you to the stars and back. Until next time.”

Adrien rose to his feet. He stepped back and looked at the tombstone one last time. He admired how the sunlight streamed down and bathed the grave, casting a glow on the sides, illuminating the violets in front. He then placed a hand over his lips and blew a kiss over at his mother’s grave. A light breeze wafted past him, not as cold as the wind before, almost refreshing in how they brushed against the flush on his cheeks. Adrien turned and began to navigate his way out of the cemetery, knowing that somewhere, anywhere, his mother was watching over him.

#### The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, this is your conductor speaking. I apologize for the sudden jolts as our Angst Train pulls into the station. I assure you that the rest of the ride will be smooth.
> 
> Way back before Soulless, just around the time I started Heartless, I thought I was just writing a one shot series: a story that had a clear beginning, middle, and end. But life is never really that clear, it has its twists and turns, and as for me, I embarked on an adventure unlike any other I had written before. I wrote a soap opera, a thriller. With characters that were black and white, and those who fit in between in the gray. A story that celebrated life yet mourned death. And with each new chapter, time passed by. The first chapter of Soulless, I was a senior completing my last semester of college, wondering how on earth she could manage her seminar thesis and fanfiction at the same time. And now here I am, working full time, with an unpredictable schedule, still marveling at the fact that I had managed to stick with Heartless and Soulless for over a year and a half while balancing up to two to three fanfiction series at a time on top of that. Adrien, Marie, Nathalie, Marinette, Plagg, even Gabriel have all become dear to my heart, and I admit that it’s not easy to leave them behind and put an end to their tale. But all good things must come to an end, don’t they? But fear not. Before we part ways, I have three gifts for you:
> 
> A [cover poster](http://goofygoldengirl.tumblr.com/post/162643553297/time-is-supposed-to-heal-all-wounds-but-what)I drew for Soulless
> 
> [ A ](http://goofygoldengirl.tumblr.com/post/162643553297/time-is-supposed-to-heal-all-wounds-but-what</a)[list](http://goofygoldengirl.tumblr.com/post/162644227762/fun-facts-about-soulless-heartless) of fun facts about possible ideas I toyed with and worldbuilding
> 
> And a selection of [content](http://goofygoldengirl.tumblr.com/post/162644434357/cut-stuff-from-soulless) that I had already written but ended up being cut 
> 
> And last but not least, thank _you_ dear reader. Whether you’ve been here since the beginning, last week, or whenever, I couldn’t have written this fic without you. Every single comment, hit, kudos, your eagerness to find out what will happen next has inspired me just as much as Adrien’s angst has. Thank you so much. 
> 
> Au revoir with love from the stars and back,  
> Goofygoldengirl <3


End file.
